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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067306">An Eternal Flame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango'>melancholymango</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Breeding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mage Lance (Voltron), Monsterfucking, Mutual Pining, Nesting, Past Allura/Lance (Voltron), Phoenix Keith (Voltron), Slow Burn, Witch's Familiar Keith (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:33:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>63,692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you have a deathwish?” The phoenix answers him with a question this time, apparently intent on dodging the question about its name. Maybe it’s for the best, Lance’s mama always warned him that he tended to get attached to things once he’d named them. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. </p><p>He isn’t going to get attached this time. </p><p>Making sure that he’s still holding the phoenix’s attention, he reaches down and pushes his cloak aside, then lifts his shirt. There, bright red and ugly against his hip, are three long slashes. They aren’t scars, they aren’t healed in the slightest, they’re still red and open wounds. They don’t hurt, not in the physical sense, but Lance can’t help the repulsion he feels whenever he looks at them.</p><p>“Not a deathwish, a death sentence.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1040</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Eternal Flame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/renten/gifts">renten</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey all, coming back at you with another monsterfucking fic on this fine Thursday! Right away I'm just gonna clarify, Keith does not die, there's gonna be a moment it looks like he does but he doesn't. LMAO spoiling my own plot twist, but as an ADAMANT hater of major character death, I could never pull something like that on y'all.</p><p>This lovely fic was a request written for Renten on ao3/@UsagiYoongi on twitter! It's sort-of a continuation of a thread that I'd posted on my nsfw twitter, just with a lot more plot! Hopefully y'all enjoy it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance pulls his hood closer to his face, hiding deeper in his cloak as he steps up the worn stone steps in front of the building. The idea of being<em> seen here </em> sends his skin crawling, shame boiling in his gut even as he pushes the massive doors open and invites himself inside.</p><p>A part of him still can’t believe that he’s doing this, that he’s stooped to this level. </p><p>The lobby is appropriately dismal, with dirty white linoleum flooring beneath his boots and buzzing fluorescent lights overhead. There aren’t even any places to sit, no waiting area whatsoever. The only thing in the entire room is the greeting desk, protected behind a wall of thick glass with only one small hole to speak to the secretary through. </p><p>The secretary is a mean looking woman, with her dark hair tied into the tightest of buns atop her head, her eyebrows arched with deep annoyance as her gaze falls on Lance’s form. He tries not to let it intimidate him, knows that this will only be the first of many trials he faces today. If he can’t handle the secretary, there’s no way he’ll be able to handle what awaits him further inside the walls of this prison.</p><p>Because that’s what it is. For all of the rebranding in an effort to seem more humane, for all of the campaigns to change it over the past few centuries, the tall brick walls and iron-wrought gate outside really speak for themselves. It’s a prison for those less fortunate than even human criminals. It’s a prison that lacks even the luxuries of a pound that keeps animals in small cages in preparation for their euthanization. </p><p>It’s the last place on the planet that you would want to end up caged away in.</p><p>It’s the last place on the planet that you would want to <em> visit </em>.</p><p>Lance curls his hands into fists in the depths of his pockets, walks straight up to the counter with his jaw set so hard his teeth ache. When he reaches his destination, he hesitantly reaches up to lower his hood, bowing his head in greeting to the woman. His superior. He can tell that now, from the protection charms around her neck, heavily-enchanted. It makes sense, she would have to be a fool to work in such a place and not call on divine intervention to keep her safe.</p><p>Again, Lance wonders what he’s doing here, if it isn’t too late to turn around and think this over again.</p><p>“What can I help you with today, Sir?” The woman asks in a droll tone, clicking her too-long nails against the counter. Lance feels inexplicably far away from the moment as he watches her. <em> Click, click, click </em>.</p><p>He can tell that she’s counting down the seconds before he’ll turn tail and run, back out like he’s sure so many visitors do. He hasn’t even said a word to her yet, and already she’s judging him, sizing him up. He doesn’t doubt that she’s already reached her conclusion. </p><p>He <em> knows </em> he doesn’t look like much. He <em> isn’t </em>much, not really. He’s not much of a man, not much of a mage. That’s the reason he’s here in the first place. The reason he can’t run from this.</p><p>“I’m interested in participating in the, uh, rehabilitation program?”</p><p>“I have some papers you’ll have to fill out.” If she feels any strong emotions about why he’s here, she definitely doesn’t show them. She’s completely and utterly indifferent as she hands Lance the pamphlet, though she does finally lift her gaze to meet his directly. Her eyes are deep blue, crinkles around the corners that suggest her age, though she looks plenty powerful enough to hide them with an illusion spell. Maybe she likes the way it makes her look, wise and intimidating.</p><p>“Understood.” Lance says simply, settling his papers on the edge of the counter and leaning over them, hiding his answers behind his arm like she won’t inevitably have to see what he’s written anyway. There’s just something about having her eyes on him while he writes, he can’t stand it.</p><p>He grabs for the pen, has barely pressed it to the paper when she speaks up again. “Make sure to answer as honestly as you can. It doesn’t pay to lie on our questionnaire.” </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am.” Lance answers, a little shakily. He’s pretty sure he’s not wrong in assuming that was meant to be a threat. He wonders what type of punishment awaits if he answers dishonestly on the form. Does the form change what familiars he’ll be offered though? He can’t have that. If she knows what a weakling he is, surely she’ll offer him the weakest creatures they have. Frogs and rats, maybe a vicious rabbit if he’s particularly lucky.</p><p>
  <em> Have you considered summoning your own familiar? What reason, if any, do you have for not taking the traditional route in this regard? </em>
</p><p>Lance taps the pen to his lips, decides that the honest answer isn’t the right one in this situation. If she knew that he was here because he was too weak and useless to summon a familiar of his own, of any kind, then he’d walk out of here empty-handed for sure. Instead, he jots down something generic about wanting a challenge, being committed to working with a secondhand familiar.</p><p>
  <em> Do you have any other familiar companions at this time? If so, please understand the risk of introducing and attempting to cohabitate a domesticated, trained familiar and a feral one. </em>
</p><p>Lance answers no, mostly because he thinks it’s the right answer, though it’s also the truth.</p><p>
  <em> Do you understand that our organization is in no way responsible for your physical or mental well-being following the acquisition of a familiar from our facility? We are not liable for any loss, damage, or injuries caused. </em>
</p><p>This gives Lance a pause, forces him to come back to the moment and think about what he’s actually doing right now. He knows he’s putting his own life on the line, he’s come to terms with that. It’s just the thought of what this thing could do to his family that’s giving him pause, making him wonder if this is really worth it. But what alternative does he have? Breaking his mother’s heart when she loses a child far too young? She’ll blame herself, Lance knows she will. He can’t let that happen.</p><p>He scribbles out a yes, then slides the form back through the crack in the glass.</p><p>“Are you looking to take one home today?” </p><p>“Is that possible?” Lance stutters out, eyes widening. Of course he wanted to take it home today, the sooner the better, but he didn’t have anything ready. He hadn’t been expecting this. He thought they’d need more time and information. “I was expecting the vetting process to take longer than this.”</p><p>“You want the honest answer?” The woman looks up at him, makes direct eye contact. “When we see an opportunity to move one along, we take it. We can’t afford not to. Our facility can only hold so many at a time. Most of ‘em need to be housed individually and we only have a thousand cells total.”</p><p>“How often do you… move them?”</p><p>“Depends.” She hums, raking her eyes over him in consideration. Slowly, she rises to her feet and walks out from behind the counter, leading him toward a heavy barred door on the far side of the room. He follows behind her, his nerves amounting. “To people like you? Hardly ever. One every couple of months, maybe. No one comes here looking for a housepet, kid.”</p><p>“So… what do they come here for?”</p><p>“Sacrifices. Soldiers. Cheap entertainment.”</p><p>“Oh.” Lance chokes, near trips over his boots. By then, they’ve reached the door, and she’s turned to look back at him expectantly. He straightens up quickly, going so rigid that he’s fairly sure he hears his spine crack with the sudden shift. </p><p>“They’re cannon fodder.” She deadpans, not a trace of emotion behind it. “You understand that, right? I know it doesn’t say it on plain terms on the papers, so let me spell it out for you. These things… they aren’t capable of the loving bond you’re looking for in a familiar. If you want that, keep practicing your magic and summon your own. All you’re going to find here is trouble.”</p><p>“Surely some of them are better than others?”</p><p>“We only get the worst of the worst here. Any decent familiar would be passed on to a relative or a friend, it would always have another home to fall back on if anything were to happen to its owner. For a familiar to end up completely abandoned… they have to be severely undesirable… or unsafe.”</p><p>“I understand, but I’ve made up my mind.”</p><p>“If you won’t listen to my warnings, then heed my advice.” There's a bite to her voice now, demanding he pays attention to her. He nods, relenting some of the control to let her speak her piece. Her fingers wind into the front of his cloak, pulling him in closer, and he’s helpless but to follow. “Read their files closely before you make a decision. No matter what bond you think you make with them, read the damn files. They’re the only thing you can trust in here.”</p><p>“O-Okay.” Lance agrees hastily, nodding his head. She gives him a final once-over, like she’s assessing if he’s truly ready to see what’s beyond the doors. And then, with a sigh like she’s been given no choice, she turns and forces them open. Lance pokes his head around the corner, stares down the long dark hallway ahead of him. He nearly chokes as he tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Um…”</p><p>“Luka will meet you at the end of the hall and he’ll continue the tour from there… unless you’re having second thoughts? It’s not too late to back out now.”</p><p>“I’m good, thank-you.” Lance says politely, just like his mama raised him. He forces a smile in her direction as a parting gift and then he continues on his merry way, starting down the hallway and refusing to look back even as the heavy doors drift closed behind him with an echoing thud.</p><p>It takes him a good minute or two to make it to the end of the hall and to the next set of doors. This one is just as heavy as the last and it takes an embarrassing amount of his strength to actually push it open wide enough to step through. Luckily, the room on the other side is at least well-lit. It’s an office space, cluttered and messy, with a man settled at the desk in the middle. Luka, presumably.</p><p>He looks up when Lance enters, a friendly smile already stretched across his lips, only to pause and visibly rethink his approach when he registers who he’s looking at. He draws a heavy breath, scratches at his beard in thought, and shakes his head like he’s decided not to voice his usual spiel. He gets to his feet and extends a hand. Lance already knows what’s coming, as the man grabs his hand in a bruising grip and he can hardly keep up with it, his handshake nowhere near as firm.</p><p>As they pull apart, Luka lets out a low whistle, observational in nature.</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart, you’re a lamb to slaughter.” He breathes. “I almost feel<em> bad </em>.”</p><p>“I can handle myself, thanks.” Lance snaps a little bit, reaching up to fix the collar of his shirt and readjust his cloak so it covers more of his face. He doesn’t like the condescending way everyone is treating him here, like he doesn’t understand the risk he’s taking. He weighed his options plenty before he made this decision, he knows what he’s getting himself into. He doesn’t need their warnings.</p><p>Luka lifts his hands between them, playfully defensive. </p><p>“Alright, alright, I wasn’t doubting you. A mage’s appearance isn’t relative to their magic, for all I know you could hand my ass to me. My apologies for assuming.” Luka grabs his coffee off the desk as he walks past, gesturing for Lance to follow him into yet another hallway. “So, what do we have in mind? Do you have any elemental preferences? In search of specific skills? Hell, just tell me your favorite animal and we’ll go from there. I just need some sort-of starting point, otherwise we’d be wandering these halls all day. This place is even bigger than it looks.”</p><p>“Strength.” Lance answers harshly, not entertaining any of the chatter that might initiate friendly conversation between them. Normally, Lance is a social butterfly, but right now he doesn’t want to make friends and paint a memorable picture in these people’s lives. He doesn’t want anyone to know he was here, doesn’t want to be recognized either. “I want the strongest of the strongest. Power.”</p><p>“Our policy is to not ask questions, but I <em> have </em> to know.” Luka presses, as he veers off to the right and gestures for Lance to follow behind him. “What the hell is a beginner like you hoping to do with all this power? Assuming you could even dream of harnessing it. You must have a reason for wanting it.”</p><p>Lance debates for a long moment whether there’s any harm in being honest now.</p><p>“I need protection.”</p><p>“Ha. You’re looking in the wrong place, all you’re gonna find here is more danger to put yourself in.”</p><p>“I didn’t ask for your<em> input </em>.” Lance reminds him coolly, holding his head high with pride he has no right to considering where he is right now. But Luka is good-spirited about it, laughs him off and even holds the door open for Lance to pass through. Only, the noises from within are horrific, the kind of thing that could fuel nightmares. He can’t honestly say he wants to see the source of it.</p><p>“Come on, then.” Luka grins at him, gestures through the door more urgently when he notices Lance’s growing hesitation. “I’ll take you to the deepest darkest corner of the prison, where we keep all the familiars that have been here the longest. I’ll show you what it really is you’re asking for and you can make the call for yourself if you’re serious about it.”</p><p>Lance has to keep from snarling at the man that he’s more than serious, that nothing awaiting him within these walls could scare him worse than what’s outside of them. It rests on the tip of his tongue, but he forces himself to swallow the words back down, to bite that traitorous tongue instead. He can’t tell anyone why he’s here, no one can ever know. Assuming all goes well, he’ll bury the hatchet and his terrible decision in a way that no one will ever be able to unearth. There’s no reason coming clean now.</p><p>Here, in this section of the prison, the walls look older. Lance figures they must be somewhere near the middle of the facility. He can’t help but notice that every brick has an ancient rune etched into it here, with protective magic stronger than anything Lance has ever felt. It leaves his skin buzzing with all of the secondhand power, power so strong he could never dream of wielding it himself.</p><p>But then they reach the cells (or rather, the<em> cages </em>) and Lance’s breath catches in his throat.</p><p>The very first familiar he lays eyes on is a big cat of some kind, a jaguar or a panther, and it’s simply pacing the cage with a tremble to its body that’s entirely unnatural, vibrating with poorly concealed magic and energy that it can’t use in a six square foot space.</p><p>The one across the aisle from that is a snake of some type, the bars on its cage replaced with a solid wall of clear plastic that’s been reinforced by magic of its own. The snake is repeatedly striking the glass, bashing its head off of it, barely giving itself time to recoil from the last injury before it’s diving forward and receiving another. They give the distinct impression of mindlessness, of something animal, or less than with how they’ve been forced to adapt to their unnatural environments. </p><p>They’re nothing like the familiars Lance has known his entire life, coherent enough to speak English, to communicate clearly and succinctly with their masters. He wonders if any of the familiars here will be in their humanoid forms, or if they all revert to their baser forms as they lose sight of that coherent part of themselves. Lance doesn’t want to think too hard about it.</p><p>“What’s<em> wrong </em>with them?”</p><p>“Anybody’s best guess. Some of them have been here for a century or more. They all start to lose what’s left of their minds when left in their own company for too long.” Luka jingles his work keys on his fingers absentmindedly as he speaks, an air of utter indifference about him. Lance figures the guard’s seen the worst of it by now if he’s been working here any amount of time, that this is probably nothing for him, but even knowing that… Lance can’t wipe the apprehension from his face. <em> He </em> has never seen anything like this, it’ll haunt him as long as he lives. </p><p>Slowly, they start to make their way down the rows of cages, and Lance remembers to start checking the files displayed right in front of every cage. He feels his disgust grow with everything he reads.</p><p>“This one seems… quiet.” Lance says at one point, eyeing the wolf sleeping in the corner of its cage, not even bothering to acknowledge his presence. Just when Lance wonders if he’s found his match, he remembers to read the files in front of him. “A timberwolf. Specialized in hunting and trapping. Admitted to the facility for mauling its fellow familiars in the home.”</p><p>A shocked gasp leaves his lips. Luka chuckles under his breath, but outwardly neither acknowledges it.</p><p>They move on. Quickly.</p><p>“Loyal only to the Dark One, abandons all responsibilities to fulfill His wishes.” Lance reads aloud, eyeing the snarling bear where it stands on its back legs in an attempt to intimidate. Lance shrinks away from the bars, his heart racing just from the thought of being at that beast’s mercy. The claws on it are as big as Lance’s hands and he doubts the Dark One would have much interest in keeping him around.</p><p>Luka makes a disinterested comment on how black magick is rumored to permanently corrupt the familiar of its user and it hits Lance somewhere in the heart of his chest. He willfully squeezes his eyes closed for a moment, begs himself not to think about that right now. It’s not something he wants to unpack here of all places, where showing weakness would seal his fate even more than he already has.</p><p>Instead he pushes himself forward, nearing the end of the aisle. </p><p>At the very end, tucked away in an unsuspecting corner cell, a dim light glows that draws Lance in much like a moth to a flame. He pauses, forgets about the alligator he’d been looking at, and instead heads straight toward the cage with light filtering between the bars. The light isn’t pale like the fluorescents overhead, it’s warm and orange, like a sunset, or the flickering flames of a fire.</p><p>When Lance comes to a stop in front of the bars, his jaw drops in shock.</p><p>“Woah.” He breathes in disbelief, stepping closer. It’s the first familiar he’s seen that isn’t in it’s beastial form and is instead standing on two legs, a pair of humanoid eyes staring back at him. There isn’t a question in Lance’s mind about what the spirit of this creature is though, with massive wings folded behind its back that nearly fill the entire cell. Each wing is draped in long feathers composed of rich hues of scarlets, yellows, and oranges. A faint glow seems to emanate from each and every one, making it hard to really distinguish the facial features of the creature.</p><p>Somehow, the most surprising part is the amount of recognition he sees in it’s glowing violet eyes, the way the familiar meets his gaze and even quirks an eyebrow at him. Engaging. None of the others had made an effort to acknowledge him in the slightest, most seemed incapable of it altogether.</p><p>Lance offers a smile in response, takes a step closer. “Well, aren’t you something special to be cooped up in a place like this? You want out of here, pretty bird? Want to stretch those wings out and feel the wind beneath them again? I can make that happen for you, if you’ll let me.”</p><p>Perhaps it’s a mistake, to address it with words, to make an attempt to treat it as something human just because it looks the part. It’s just hard to treat it with the same disregard and indifference when it’s staring back at him, wide-eyed and curious, a human smile tugging at the corners of its lips. Lance’s own grin widens in response, his confidence growing at the first sign of encouragement.</p><p>Mindlessly, he drifts closer to the bars, settles a hand on them. </p><p>It’s at that moment that Luka seems to notice just how close he’s gotten.</p><p>“Hey, kid! Watch out! Take a step back, you’re too close to the-” His warning is cut off as the phoenix dives forward in a flurry of movement, so fast that Lance only has time to register the blur of shifting light before he feels it instead. The hand that grabs his arm is heavy and harsh, giving him no chance to shrug it off. And then it’s something more, something hot, something hot enough to burn clear through his shirt and bring his skin to a boil as well. The scream he lets out is blood-curdling. </p><p>The phoenix recoils at the shrill sound, huffing hard enough that an angry plume of smoke rises from its nostrils. Then it spins around, and Lance’s vision spins as he watches it retreat to the back of its cell, long and proud tail feathers draped across the floor behind it. He thinks he might see smoke rising from those too, but he’s not sure he can trust his eyes right now, when the pain is so blinding.</p><p>He’s abruptly pulled backward at just the same moment he starts to sway on his feet, thankfully. Luka manhandles him closer, mindful of his injury where it’s throbbing in unbearable pain, and settles him on the cool stone floor. Lance bites down hard on his tongue to keep from screaming again, or letting a sob slip past his lips. As it is, he’s sure he’s agitated all of the familiars in this aisle.</p><p>“Are you alright?!” Luka shouts, hands rapidly tearing the tattered remains of Lance’s shirt away from the wound. Lance feels far away from the moment, the pain so intense that his body seems to think the only solution is to numb itself completely and drift out of consciousness. Luka keeps slapping him gently on the face though, keeping him awake. “Jesus, that’s gotta be a third degree burn. Stay here, I’ll go grab Erma, she’ll perform a healing spell and you’ll be good as new. Just, don’t move.”</p><p>And just like that, Luka is gone, leaving Lance alone to deal with his assailant and a head full of fuzzy cotton. He risks a glance down at his arm and nearly doubles over to vomit, disgusted by the state of what was once skin and is now only charred flesh more resemblant of something served as a meal.</p><p>He has to think about something else, anything else, so he finds his gaze drifting lazily back toward the phoenix. It’s curled in the corner of its cage now, its back turned to Lance, and as he leans there against the cool wall behind him, he can’t help but admire the bird again. He’s never seen anything like it, something bathed in color and light alike, something that radiates effortless power in the same way a flame does. Belatedly, he notices the file posted beside the cell, and he uses all of his concentration to attempt to read through it. </p><p>
  <em> Phoenix. Powerful warrior used as a weapon during The Great War, single handedly demolished armies and strongholds. Admitted to the facility for betrayal and murder of its own master. </em>
</p><p>It isn’t long before Luka returns, this time with the front desk lady in tow. She introduces herself a second time, as Erma, offering Lance her first name now like it’s a right he’s earned. He just nods, barely able to focus enough to pay attention to what she’s saying. Luckily, she doesn’t take long at all to kneel next to him and put her hands to work, gently placing them over the burn and muttering an incantation. If the charms didn’t give it away before, it’s clear now that healing is her magical calling.</p><p>The pain lessens as the seconds pass and soon Erma is pulling back, deeming her work finished.</p><p>“How is that?”</p><p>“Better.” </p><p>“I can only accelerate the healing. I can’t heal it any more than what would normally be possible. It’ll scar. There’s nothing I can do to stop that.” She informs him, her tone sympathetic. Lance hardly minds, it’s not exactly the ugliest scar on his body. As it is, he’s just happy that it doesn’t hurt anymore, that it’s not quite so noticeable for when he returns home after this dangerous expedition.</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“You’re lucky to have survived this attack.” She comments. After thinking about it a moment, she reaches out and smacks him on his good shoulder. It’s hardly professional, but Lance sees it as the worry it is, has had his fair share of maternal figures in his life by now to see through it to the concern. “How could you be so foolish as to approach a phoenix, in a place like this?! I’m sure you’ve heard tell of the things a phoenix is capable of, what on Earth would compel you to approach one so unstable and unpredictable as <em> that </em>?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Lance’s eyes flicker to the side in what he hopes is a discreet manner, to where the phoenix is still curled in the corner of its cell. He can’t get over the way its wings span across the entire six feet width of the room and then some, curled and cramped into the space in a way that hardly looks comfortable. He wonders how long its been since the creature could stretch its wings fully, how many years its been locked away in this dark corner of a prison. “I just… thought I felt something.”</p><p>“Well, you’d best stop feeling it.” Erma informs him matter-of-factly. “You read the file?”</p><p>“Y-Yeah, I guess I did.”</p><p>“That bird murdered its original master. It brutalized and shredded the corpse beyond recognition, spread the blood over the entire room. It doesn’t know the meaning of loyalty. All it knows is murder and bloodshed. It’s no <em> pet </em>, Sir. You can be sure of that.”</p><p>“I’m not looking for a pet.” Lance’s voice is weak, despite his certainty behind the words. His confidence is growing though, the longer he stares at the glowing feathers spanning down the creature’s back. He wonders what kind of stories a being like that has to offer. Surely it must have had a reason for what it did, and if nothing else, surely it’s had time to rethink the decision with how long it’s been here.</p><p>Maybe it’s changed. Maybe it deserves a second chance.</p><p>“Fine, but you sure as hell are not looking for<em> that </em>.” Erma presses, gripping his jaw and forcibly turning his gaze back to her. “Listen to me, I’m not supposed to share its history after arriving at the facility, but if that’s what it takes… I understand the appeal. I know it looks powerful, who wouldn’t want a phoenix as a familiar? The magick it would take to summon a creature such as that on your own is insurmountable. But you wouldn’t be the first to fall victim to its appeals. Everyone that walks through these walls admires that bird and its been the death of many more than just one master.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“It’s gone home with five different witches or warlocks since arriving here a century ago.” Erma explains to him gently, like she’s breaking horrible news. He swallows hard, gaze flickering back to the beast in consideration. He knows what she means, can read between the lines enough to know. The phoenix has more blood on its hands than just one master. “It <em> always </em> comes back, Lance.”</p><p>In Lance’s defense, he does take a long moment to think about it after learning that particular tidbit of information. Knowing that he isn’t offering the phoenix its second chance, but rather its fifth or so… well, that does make it harder to believe that its truly capable of changing, doesn’t it? He’s not looking to turn a wayward soul’s life around though, he’s simply looking to save his own skin. If he has any hope in hell of managing that, he’s going to need to take risks, and he’s going to need something as powerful as a phoenix on his side.</p><p>He looks to Erma, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. He hates to disappoint her, it feels exactly like disappointing his mother. It goes without saying, he hates disappointing his mother more, which is exactly why he has to do this. It isn’t a question of choice, not when he already made his. He’s running out of options and this might very well be his last one.</p><p>“May I have a moment alone with it?”</p><p>“The phoenix?” She asks, like she can’t truly believe her ears. Lance swallows hard and nods.</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>“You can’t be serious.” She gapes at him for a long moment, no doubt hoping to see any sign of sarcasm at all in his expression. When she comes up empty handed, she rushes to her feet in a flurry of curses, clearly frustrated. “You’ll die at its hand, just like its master before you, and the master before that. If I’d known you wanted to die, I wouldn’t have wasted my time on healing you at all!”</p><p>“Come on, Erma, you can’t unteach stupid.” Luka cuts in, grabbing her arm and gently leading her down the hall. Lance nods after them, waving his hand and bidding them farewell. He hopes it won’t be the last time he sees them, but he can’t be sure. He’s gambling with his life, after all.</p><p>As soon as he hears the heavy doors close behind them, he turns to the phoenix. It still hasn’t moved from the corner, but as Lance walks across the small space to stand directly in front of the bars of its cell again, he sees the way it tenses. Its wings fold higher behind its back, curling around itself in a defensive posture, hardly the offensive attack Erma seemed to think he should expect.</p><p>Lance is taking a chance here, in assuming there’s more humanity left in the creature than it seems.</p><p>“I imagine it’s hard, living in a place like this, watching all your peers lose their sanity. Not you, though, you’re too strong for that. Like it or not, you’ve held onto your awareness, and you’re forced to be present for every miserable second of this. How do you do it?” Lance trails his finger lightly along one of the metal cell bars, though he knows the phoenix can hear it with its heightened senses. He steps closer, all but flattens himself against the bars. Well within grabbing and burning reach, if the bird felt so inclined, though he’s not so sure it will. </p><p>If it wanted him dead, it would have killed him before.</p><p>Or, at least, that’s the logic he’s basing his life on right now.</p><p>Outwardly, the phoenix doesn’t really react to his words. Lance is sure it must hear him though, that it understands what he’s saying. He clicks his tongue as if calling an animal, taps his fingernail against the bars louder, loud enough that it echoes around the room. “I’m Lance. What’s <em> your </em> name?”</p><p>Somehow, even though it’s his second time experiencing it, the sheer speed the phoenix crosses the cell startles him just the same. He jumps, but even his flinch isn’t quick enough to get him away from that burning grip. This time, it grabs onto the collar of his shirt through the bars, lifts his body clean off the ground like he weighs nothing at all. Lance feels himself suffocating, is sure he’s purpling with strain.</p><p>But then, the unexpected happens, and Lance wonders if it was worth the risk after all.</p><p>“You really must be a different breed of braindead.” The phoenix snarls, leaning closer, until their noses are practically touching between the bars. It’s voice is deep and smooth, crackling slightly like it hasn’t been used in months, like the worn sticks at the bottom of a firepit. Up close and personal like this, lingering in each other’s spaces rather than immediately recoiling, Lance gets his first good look at the creature who’s permanently branded him in the shape of a handprint.</p><p>The phoenix is unfairly attractive, which really is just the icing on the cake of this otherwise unfortunate web of events Lance finds himself tied up in. It’s almost ironic, really, that the bloodthirsty attack dog of a familiar he’s chosen to put his life into the hands of is simultaneously the hottest man he’s ever seen.</p><p>Lance gasps uselessly, hands fumbling against the cell door, clumsily thudding against it. He’s not sure what his goal is, only that he’s choking and he really would prefer to not die in a place like this. The phoenix knows it too, its eyes dark with amusement as it watches his struggle unfold. </p><p>“P-Please.” Lance chokes out, jaw clenched hard against the strain on his throat.</p><p>“<em> Please </em> ? Would you like me to take a limb clean off the bone this time? Would that get it through your thick fucking skull that I’m not interested in going home with you? I won’t serve you. I won’t obey a word of what you tell me. I will spend every second in your presence waiting for the moment to <em> end it </em>.”</p><p>“That’s an awfully long name.” Lance manages weakly, lips curling into a thin smile. The phoenix regards him with obvious bemusement, like it’s struggling to piece together what exactly his intentions are. As Lance continues to smile, expression not fading in the slightest, the beast’s grip slackens.</p><p>Lance hits the floor on his knees, raggedly swallowing down air like he’s been missing it for years, and not mere moments. The phoenix watches him with an unimpressed glare, like he’s a disappointment that never fails to keep lowering expectations. Lance looks up at it, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“I don’t have a name.” The phoenix answers then, its tone stiff like it isn’t sure how to navigate a conversation that isn’t composed of entirely threats. “Tell me, <em> Lance </em> , is it not the <em> master’s </em> job to name their familiar? Thus, I’ve been known by many names.”</p><p>“Well, surely you must refer to yourself as <em> something </em>?” </p><p>“Phoenix.”</p><p>“That’s not a name.”</p><p>“Murderer.”</p><p>“Still not a name.” </p><p>“Do you have a deathwish?” The phoenix answers him with a question this time, apparently intent on dodging the question about its name. Maybe it’s for the best, Lance’s mama always warned him that he tended to get attached to things once he’d named them. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. </p><p>He isn’t going to get attached this time. </p><p>Making sure that he’s still holding the phoenix’s attention, he reaches down and pushes his cloak aside, then lifts his shirt. There, bright red and ugly against his hip, are three long slashes. They aren’t scars, they aren’t healed in the slightest, they’re still red and open wounds. They don’t hurt, not in the physical sense, but Lance can’t help the repulsion he feels whenever he looks at them.</p><p>“Not a deathwish, a death<em> sentence </em>.” Lance clarifies pointedly, exhaling through his mouth. The phoenix seems intrigued now, crowding closer to the bars, head tilting this way and that to observe the ugly marks marring Lance’s skin. The mark of the beast. The mark of the hounds. “I’m as good as dead already. You’d only be speeding up the inevitable if you were to slaughter me now. I imagine you’d be kinder to me than the hellhounds would be, anyway. If you really must, then have at it.”</p><p>At this, Lance tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes, neck exposed in a blatant offering. </p><p>The seconds tick by and he doesn’t feel the phoenix’s talons slash through his throat, he assumes that his words must be resonating in some caliber. He has some wiggle room then, to explain his story, and expect the phoenix to actually hear him out. He just has to sell it in a way that’ll make it want to help him… easier said than done.</p><p>“My mother was dying. It was her life for mine.” Lance offers, without being prompted. </p><p>He reaches down and runs his fingertips across the ugly wounds, grinding his teeth together to stomach it. He hates that he’s forced to wear this mark forever, the mark that brands him as a black magic user for the rest of his existence. His magic will never be the same, permanently altered because of one moment in his life, an otherwise insignificant blip. </p><p>But his mother was dying, what other choice did he have? He couldn’t let her die. She was the heart of his family, the heart of their entire town. She had so much life left to live, so much to offer the world, so many opportunities ahead of herself. Unlike Lance, the one member of the McClain family who’d never been particularly magically-inclined. He’d never had a talent, never had much to offer the family name, so the least he could do was offer himself up as a sacrifice to keep his mother alive.</p><p>Only, his mother had caught onto him, the very moment she’d risen from her comatose state. She’d hugged them all, then gone straight into grilling them. She knew it was her time to go, she said she was at peace with it, and the fact that she was still there… was unnatural. And she knew someone, somehow, had found a way to intervene. With a completely even and reasonable tone, she’d promised she would rather die than lose one of her babies before it was their time, that the guilt she’d feel knowing they sacrificed themselves for her would drive her to an early death all over again.</p><p>That was two days ago. Lance has lived in a state of paranoia ever since, desperately trying to come up with a solution before the hounds come for him. He can’t leave his mama on these terms, he can’t put her through that. He’d been thinking impulsively when he made a deal with the Dark One, and now he’s thinking impulsively as he makes another deal to get himself out of it.</p><p>“What does this have to do with me?” The phoenix says finally, after plenty of time to examine the weight of Lance’s words. Good to see that the phoenix understands familial bonds in theory, if not in practice. Lance wrings his hands together, refuses to make eye contact as he says it.</p><p>“I don’t want to pay up.” Lance offers around a toothy smile, letting his shirt fall back into place.</p><p>“You’re trying to outrun the hellhounds?” The phoenix laughs then, an actual genuine chuckle, and Lance can’t even take the time to feel properly elated about that because all he feels is the prickle of anger. He doesn’t enjoy being mocked, having his plan scoffed at. The phoenix doesn’t seem to care about his pride though. “Oh, you are fascinatingly dumb.”</p><p>“Not outrun, overpower.” Lance elaborates, grinning his most convincing grin, turning up his boyish charm to the highest degree in hopes of having some manner of effect on the phoenix. It looks entirely unimpressed by the display, so Lance presses a little more. “Hence why I need your help.”</p><p>“Why would I <em> ever </em> help you?”</p><p>“Because it’s your ticket out of this dump.” Lance offers, shrugging his shoulders and extending a hand in offering. The phoenix stares at his outstretched palm for a long moment, but makes no effort to actually shake it, so eventually Lance tucks it back into his pocket instead. He decides that he’d best use his words in this situation. “You help me find a way out of my situation and I’ll help you find a way out of yours. I know you can’t be happy here. You’re a phoenix, you’re meant to fly, not stay locked up in a cage.”</p><p>“Yeah right. Like you'd let me be free. You're all the same, it always ends in a cage. Just one with different walls.” The phoenix scoffs, turning to walk around the small space of its cell, pacing the floor in a clearly agitated way. Lance doesn’t dare to hope, but it almost looks like its weighing its options, considering what he’s suggesting. Out of options and running out of time, Lance plays his final card in his deck.</p><p>“How did they catch you? All the other times?”</p><p>“What?” The phoenix looks back at him, plainly unamused.</p><p>“After you killed your past masters, <em> how did they catch you </em>?” Lance reiterates, firmer this time. The phoenix is staring at him curiously, but doesn’t offer anything by the way of explanation. Lance knows exactly why. It doesn’t have one. Or at least, not an explanation that doesn’t reveal more than its actually willing to reveal to him. “Believe what you will, but I’m not stupid. I know how fast and far a phoenix can fly. I know there’s no way that anyone could catch you unless you wanted them to. Why are you here?”</p><p>“You could say I’m running from my own set of hellhounds.” The phoenix relents, eyes downcast toward the floor. It looks frustrated, hands curled into tight fists at its sides. “I’m safer here than I am out there.”</p><p>“This is no life to live. You might as well let them tear you apart.” Lance scoffs. Then, determined, he moves closer and extends a hand again. This time, he slides it through the bars, his fingertips just barely tracing over a long, warm feather before the phoenix shifts its wings back. Lance doesn’t retreat though, and the familiar doesn’t attack. “Let me help you. I need you. You need me.”</p><p>“Why would I trust you?”</p><p>“You shouldn't.” Lance tells him flatly. The truth is, he’s using this creature for his own benefit, in the same way he’s sure the phoenix would use him. There is no shame in it, no use in hiding the obvious. It isn’t a secret, or it doesn’t have to be. “The same way I don't trust a feather on your pretty head.”</p><p>“The second you become an inconvenience to me, I won’t hesitate.” </p><p>“I know.” Lance suits him with a serious stare. The phoenix blinks owlishly back at him, considering, no doubt sizing him up as an inevitable opponent. Lance has to wonder if he’s found his freedom or if he’s simply dug his grave a few feet deeper. “This isn’t a commitment, this is a truce made in the spirit of convenience. When it ceases to be convenient, the truce is off.”</p><p>“Deal.”</p><p>--</p><p>Lance thought the paperwork prior to choosing a familiar was lax, but when he comes back to the front counter to request the phoenix as his own, there’s nothing he has to fill out at all. He gets a small file of the phoenix’s information, or at least what the facility knows, and then he’s asked to stand aside while Luka goes to retrieve his new familiar. Standing there in that empty waiting area in complete silence while Erma stares him down with disappointment and pity clear in her eyes is almost scarier than using black magic for the first time had been, for fuck’s sake.</p><p>When Luka returns with the phoenix in tow, the familiar is bound with so many enchanted chains that Lance barely recognizes it. Wings tied tight behind its back, hands bound, mouth stretched around a metal bit like a horse, ears blocked, eyes covered with a band that completely blocks its vision. The poor thing doesn’t have even one of its five senses.</p><p>And sure, Lance knows what the creature is capable of, but it still seems a bit excessive by his standards.</p><p>They exchange the barest formalities, Lance thanks them for their time, they both answer without looking him in the eyes once. It’s clear that they both think they’re handing him a death sentence, and even working in a place as desolate as the prison, they still feel guilt about that. Lance feels bad about it, he really does, the last thing he wants is to hurt more people… but if he had any other option, he would have exhausted it by now. This isn’t what he wanted either.</p><p>But it’s what he has, so he takes it in stride, with his head held high. He grabs the chain held out to him and gingerly accepts the keys around his neck, then leads the phoenix out of the facility with an air of confidence about him that’s entirely fake. He’s never been <em> less </em> confident in his entire life.</p><p>The phoenix is surprisingly docile as Lance leads it out of the facility and down the front steps. It doesn’t even stumble once, despite the lack of its senses, and Lance is left to wonder if it just knows the journey that well by now or if it’s thanks to some inherent sixth sense of direction he’s unaware of. Using the moment to his advantage, Lance starts down the long winding road toward home, and flips idly through the file on his new familiar. It doesn’t offer much more information than the plaque in front of its cage had, but there are a few tidbits of interest that Lance stores away in the back of his mind. Age, sex, and a presumable name though the facility made a point to note their uncertainty. </p><p>Keith.</p><p>Odd name for a phoenix, if he’s being honest.</p><p>The facility is just about out of sight when Lance glances back over his shoulder to the phoenix for the umpteenth time, as if expecting it to vanish. This time though, he notices the way the creature’s, Keith’s, hands are curling in and out of tight fists, almost like a nervous tic. Does a phoenix even get nervous? Is Lance an asshole for assuming they wouldn’t? </p><p>“Hey, can you hear me? Keith?” Lance asks uselessly, unsure what he’s really expecting. Unsurprisingly, ‘Keith’ doesn’t actually answer him, still deafened by the heavy enchantments. Lance grows bolder, stepping closer to the glowing feathers and fighting the urge to reach out and touch one. The moment there’s slack in the chain, Keith stops walking, freezes in place. Lance looks him over, considering, wonders what kind of story a creature with a history like Keith’s must have. “Hell, I don’t even know if that’s really your name. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”</p><p>Keith doesn’t respond, though Lance notices his hands are<em> staying </em>wound into tight fists now.</p><p>Lance bites his lip, thinking hard. If he doesn’t want to end up like Keith’s last few masters, then it goes to reason that he should set himself apart from them, do something entirely different.</p><p>Wordlessly, he reaches for the keys hanging around his neck.</p><p>He starts with the ears, undoing the bindings slowly, trying to be mindful of the unkempt mane of black hair threatening to tangle with the chains. The very moment the key clicks in the lock, the enchantments dissipate, and Keith goes rigid as the sounds of the forest surround him suddenly on all sides.</p><p>Lance moves on to the bit in his mouth next, holding his breath in fear of getting snapped at.</p><p>“Where are we?” Keith asks the moment he’s able, working his jaw. His eyes are still covered and his wings and hands still bound, but Lance hesitates to remove anything more just yet. </p><p>“About twenty paces from the front doors of the prison you called home.”</p><p>“Why are you unchaining me?” Keith doesn’t sound grateful as much as suspicious, like Lance is setting him free only to trap him in worse ways. Lance isn’t sure how to navigate that.</p><p>“Figured we ought to get to know each other. We have a long walk back to the farm.” Lance says, trying to keep his tone casual. Keith doesn’t relax in the slightest, if anything he grows more tense at the prospect of having to carry a conversation, like it’s a worse fate than the torture he’s endured in the literal prison he’s been living in. Lance quickly backtracks, coughing loudly into his fist. “Besides, if the hounds come on the way, you won’t be much use to me all tied up.”</p><p>“I could kill you.”</p><p>“I’m well-aware, <em> Keith </em>. Your file mentioned it. Said it was supposedly your first name, given to you by your first master. Would you like me to use that or are you going to suggest something else for me?”</p><p>“I don’t care.” Keith’s voice is believably void of emotion, like he truly doesn’t care or have a single preference either way. It throws Lance for yet another blank, has him hesitating before ultimately deciding that that’s the closest thing to an approval he’s gonna get. </p><p>“Uh-huh, well, good. I’m gonna free your eyes now, okay?” Lance doesn’t wait for approval, just reaches up and immediately sticks his key into the lock. He tosses the chains aside into the growing pile on the side of the path, looks back to Keith and near chokes on his own saliva when he finds those amethyst eyes staring attentively back at him. </p><p>He quickly averts his gaze, turning around and starting ahead. He doesn’t bother untying Keith’s hands and wings just yet, but he also doesn’t drag him along by the chain, just trusts that he’ll follow behind on his own accord. “Alright, let’s walk while we talk.”</p><p>“Why are we walking and not teleporting?” </p><p>“You’d think you’d be excited to exercise after spending a lifetime cooped up in a cage. Please tell me I didn’t choose a<em> lazy </em> murderous phoenix.” Lance waves his hand dismissively through the air, like it was a stupid question to ask. The truth is, his magic isn’t strong enough to teleport him, let alone the both of them. He couldn’t even take a damn horse for the journey, too worried that someone would notice it missing and make assumptions about where he’d gone off to.</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>“Let’s talk about your cover.”</p><p>“My <em> cover </em>?”</p><p>“Yes. I can’t have my family knowing where you came from, they don’t know anything about the mess I’ve gotten myself into and I’d rather they never found out. So, in case they happen to ask you about it, you’re to tell them that I summoned you through entirely organic means.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Keith answers with a scoff, one that quickly peters out into quiet laughter. Lance trips over his feet in his rush to look back over his shoulder, gaping at the phoenix as he watches it double over in blatant laughter. Lance is so shocked and awed by the uncharacteristic gesture, it takes him a minute to recognize the way the reaction hurts him. “Laughable. I don’t think they’ll believe it.”</p><p>Right. Very laughable. Lance has been struggling for years to summon so much as a toad, why would they believe he’s suddenly managed to summon a phoenix? Still, if he tells them so, and insists it to be the truth, then who would dare to question him? If they did, it’d be a blatant insult to his skill, to imply he’s not good enough for it. His family loves him too much to ever be that blunt about it.</p><p>… Even if it<em> is </em>true.</p><p>“And what would you have me tell them? That you’re some stray I picked up on the side of the road? No one abandons a fucking phoenix, Keith.” Lance mutters angrily. “They either keep you or die trying.”</p><p>“So why tell your family at all? Hide me where they won’t find me, keep me as a dirty little secret, they don’t need to know about me if they don’t need to know about the rest of it. There’s no shame in, well, being ashamed. I <em> am </em> a last resort, after all. Isn’t that right?”</p><p>Lance would have to be actually deaf not to hear the sardonic undertone to Keith’s words. It only works to annoy him more, as he feels the beginnings of a headache coming on. Here he’d been worried the phoenix would simply maul him to death, but it’s starting to seem like its intent on mocking and ridiculing him into an early grave instead.</p><p>He reaches up, rubbing at his temples to try and relieve the ache.</p><p>“What are you suggesting? The only place sizable enough to <em> possibly </em>hide you is the basement and I’m not about to keep you holed up in that damp, dark hole.” </p><p>“Why not? Wouldn’t be the first to try it.” Keith mutters in response, glaring daggers toward the dirt beneath his feet. Lance stumbles over his feet, too busy looking behind himself at Keith to look where he’s going. He comes to a stop, draws a heavy breath, rakes his eyes over Keith. The phoenix stops as well, but he doesn’t look up, doesn’t come anywhere near looking Lance in the eye.</p><p>For a long moment, Lance wonders what the right way to respond to something like that is. If it were anyone else, he’d follow his first instinct, to comfort and console them. The thought of anyone being locked away in a basement and treated as a second-class being, regardless of whether they’re a familiar or not, unsettles him to his core. But Keith doesn’t look like he’s searching for comfort, if anything he looks like he’d be offended by the attempt, would take it as something mocking no matter how Lance tried to present it.</p><p>And Lance can’t blame him, not really. Why would he believe that Lance is any different than any of the past masters he’s had? And why should Lance believe that he’s even being truthful, when it’s just as likely that he’s trying to manipulate Lance into pitying him, to let his guard down so he can strike when it’s least expected. He’s a<em> murderer </em> after all, who’s to say anything that leaves his mouth is true?</p><p>Lance steels his resolve, reminds himself why the last thing he should possibly be doing right now is trying to befriend the <em> cannon fodder </em> he just pulled out of a <em> prison </em>.</p><p>“Because, it’d be pretty hard for you to protect me if I keep you chained up in the fucking basement.”</p><p>“Right.” Keith snorts, not a hint of amusement behind the sound. Lance flinches slightly, hates that he feels bad about it, hates that he’s so fucking naive that he feels sympathy for the closest thing to a monster he could find for hire. This is not how any of this was supposed to go.</p><p>“So, you gonna tell me what<em> your </em>particular set of hellhounds are? So I can be on the lookout for them? Watch your back while you watch mine?”</p><p>“I’ll tell you when you need to know.” Keith answers, as cryptic as ever. “We’ll be safe… for a while.”</p><p>“Well, that’s not ominous at all.” Lance is half-hoping that Keith will read the mood and offer something more in lieu of an explanation, but of course he does no such thing. Lance should have known better than to hope, from everything he’s learnt so far, Keith is hardly the accommodating type. You get what he’s willing to give and exactly that, nothing more. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to pry it out of him.</p><p>After that, they lapse into silence. Lance hadn’t been exaggerating when he said they had a long trip ahead of them and he’s not exactly looking forward to Keith’s reaction when he realizes just how long it truly is. Yet another reason he’s glad that he thought twice about unlocking the phoenix’s hands, if he’s being perfectly honest. Maybe it’s cruel, and maybe he does feel more guilty about it than he cares to admit aloud, but this is one instance where his kindness won’t do him any favors.</p><p>He’s not out to make friends, he’s out to survive, by any means necessary.</p><p>--</p><p>Aside from a few short stilted conversations where Lance learned next to nothing about his new companion, they travel through the entire day in relative silence. It’s mid-summer and the temperatures are crawling up to a point where Lance feels suffocated in his cloak, no matter how lightweight and airy it may be. Still, he doesn’t dare to take it off, lest someone he knows happen upon him on the roads and see him walking alongside a familiar clad in the signature prison outfit.</p><p>He did bring spare clothes for Keith to change into, and he plans on utilizing them before he gets back home obviously, but he can’t rightly ask him to change clothes without bothering to untie his hands, and truth be told Lance isn’t sure if he trusts him enough for that yet. Keith hasn’t offered up much of anything in terms of information, or even reassurance, and Lance finds that more and more unsettling the longer they spend in each other’s presence. </p><p>Though he can’t deny that he feels safer traveling the winding roads through the woods with Keith by his side than he did without. Even with Keith still mostly-bound, he’s sure that he’d find a way to fight off any rogue bandits or ravenous bears. Granted, he probably would need his arms if he were to take on the hellhounds, but Lance has the set of keys close at hand in case he needs to unshackle Keith in a hurry.</p><p>It’s just before sunset when they finally set foot on Lance’s family property again, the massive red barn looming ahead through the trees long before they’re anywhere near the house. If they’d taken the main roads they would have arrived sooner and right at his parent’s front door, but as it is Lance figured taking some less-traveled roads was the safer bet. As it is, he’d nearly ran into an elderly couple from the local village that he delivers herbs to on a regular basis.</p><p>“Almost there.” Lance stage-whispers, like his family are lurking in the trees and at risk of overhearing them even from here. Keith gives him a sideways glance, as unimpressed as ever. “I’m just taking a minute to remind you to act normal.”</p><p>“Thanks for the reminder.”</p><p>“I’m serious, I need you to act like a proper familiar, really sell this. Greet them, obey my orders, and try your best to learn their names. If you’re here for any amount of time, you’ll need to know them.”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“Are you hungry?” Lance asks suddenly, as they grow close enough to see the candlelight flickering in the windows of his parent’s house. He thinks he can just make out movement in the dining room and given the time of day, he assumes they’ve settled in for a family meal. He’s right on time for it, as to not raise suspicions about where he’s been all day. “It looks like they’re settled in for dinner right now, so this is probably as good a time as any to introduce you, while they’re all in one room. It’s gonna be a little overwhelming at first, but try to stay calm. After we’ve eaten, we’ll quickly excuse ourselves and head back to my place. I have a little cottage on the edge of the property, we only really meet up here at my parent’s for supper each night.” </p><p>Keith stares blankly back at him. Lance quirks an eyebrow.</p><p>“I’m sorry, but you can’t be serious.” Keith’s voice is sharp and cruel when he speaks up and Lance flinches away from him on instinct, hands raising in front of himself defensively. Only Keith doesn’t attack, just keeps staring at him like he’s utterly stupid, and Lance has been treated as stupid enough times throughout his life that it’s almost worse than being physically attacked.</p><p>“What? Too much info dropped on you at once? I thought phoenixes were supposed to be smart?”</p><p>“For all you know, I could be planning on going berserk and murdering them all the moment the chains are off. And you’re worried about what, my <em> table manners </em>?” </p><p>“It’s not table manners, it’s just common sense if you want them to believe us!”</p><p>“I’m not going to learn their fucking names! I <em> have </em>no intention of staying here any amount of time!”</p><p>“Alright, alright, calm down. Forget I asked. Just act like your usual asshole self.” Lance grumbles, pausing just outside his mother’s house and ducking behind her flowerbushes. He tugs his backpack off his shoulder, digs out the clothes he’d brought along for Keith and holds them up to him to gauge their size. They’d be a little bit small on him, but they’d have to do for now. “Okay, strip, I have clothes for you.”</p><p>“<em> Excuse me </em>?”</p><p>“Come on, it’s not that big of a deal. I just can’t have you walking in there in your prison jumpsuit, they’ll know where you came from right away. And I can’t exactly unchain you and then cover my eyes, that’s like, asking to have my throat ripped out. So, unfortunately for both of us, I’m gonna have to watch you, but I’ll keep my eyes on your face.”</p><p>“I don’t care about that, familiars don’t have the same obsession with modesty that humans do, I don’t give a fuck if you see my body. I’m not ashamed of it.”</p><p>“Okay? So what’s the problem?”</p><p>“The problem…” Keith trails off, eyebrows knitted together in thought like he’s having trouble distinguishing what the problem actually is. And when he finally speaks, it’s through his teeth, like he’s enraged at being made to explain himself at all. “The problem is that I don’t want to wear <em> your </em>clothes.”</p><p>Lance stares right back at him, at a loss for words. At this point surely Keith is just being petty for no reason, to see an issue with something as irrelevant as that. It doesn’t make sense, it’s not like the clothes are particularly flashy or uncomfortable, and it’s not like Lance stinks. God, it’s actually one of Lance’s favorite outfits, one he’d had hand-tailored recently and paid a pretty penny for. He’d just figured that whoever his new familiar ended up being, they’d appreciate having something comfortable to wear, and he wanted to start things off with them on the right foot.</p><p>So much for that, huh?</p><p>“I don’t care?” Lance tries finally, throwing his hands up in the air. Keith doesn’t flinch away, instead he stands taller, takes a step closer, like if he looms menacingly enough Lance will go back on his word and simply let him be introduced to the family in a prison jumpsuit. “As your master, I <em> order you </em> to-”</p><p>In an instant, Lance finds himself pressed up against the side of his parent’s house, a hand once again wrapped tight around his throat and cutting off his airflow. He really, really hopes this stops being a regular occurrence between the two of them. Maybe he should be more careful with what he says, but he’s spent a lifetime getting into trouble because of his quick tongue, and nothing he’s encountered yet has been enough to scare him silent.</p><p>“<em> You </em> don’t order <em> me </em> to do <em> anything </em>.” Keith snaps, enunciating each word with brutal detail, shaking Lance slightly with each word, just enough to make his teeth chatter together. Lance nods his head rapidly, instantly agreeable as he feels Keith’s hand grow ever hotter against his Adam’s apple, already bordering on burning. He has to wonder if Keith has entire control over that or if it’s an inherent reaction spurred on by emotion. This doesn’t feel like a good time to try asking him.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Lance says instead, finding that he means it underneath all the fear and frustration. He knows he shouldn’t have done that, knows those words have probably been abused in far worse ways throughout Keith’s history.  “That was shitty of me to even try. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I’ll wear the fucking clothes.” Keith snarls, still sounding anything but happy with the arrangement as he drops Lance back onto his feet. </p><p>“<em> Thank-you </em>. Seriously, you’d think I was asking you to pull your own feathers out.” Lance sighs out in exasperation, reaching forward with the key and unlocking Keith’s wrists and wings. He can’t help but notice the reddened marks left behind on his pale skin on either arm, and a pang of guilt hits him at leaving them on so long at all. He looks up at Keith again and finds him pointedly looking off in another direction, no doubt too proud to show that he feels discomfort or pain at all.</p><p>Lance tosses him the clothes and leans back against the side of the house he’d just been pressed against, trying to be discreet about the fact he was still struggling to catch his breath fully. He also makes a point to just barely watch Keith out of the corner of his eye, despite what Keith had said just now about being indifferent toward it. It still doesn’t sit right with him, the thought has him flushing in embarrassment no matter how <em> Keith </em> feels about it.</p><p>Pretty early on, it becomes clear that Keith is struggling. It takes all of the self-control Lance has not to snicker in laughter, or even offer a helping hand, as Keith grows progressively more frustrated. It isn’t until a wad of fabric hits Lance upside the head that he finally caves and turns to look at him properly.</p><p>He’s, well, he’s got the trousers on, loose and stretchy as the material is. They do sit a little low on his hips to accommodate for his tail feathers where they fall from the base of his tailbone, but not so low that it’s obscene in the front, and if his ass is hanging out it’s at least not readily visible with his wings covering it.</p><p>As for the shirt, well, it seems to be in shreds when Lance picks it up off the ground and holds it in front of himself, considering. All the while, Keith stews in silence, eyes glued to him and practically daring him to make a snide comment. This is definitely one of those aforementioned instances that Lance could benefit from biting his tongue, but…</p><p>“You could have told me that you didn’t want to wear clothes because you don’t know how to dress yourself, geez, I could have-”</p><p>“Fuck off.” Keith growls, and then he charges past Lance, in all his shirtless glory, and heads straight for the front door to his parent’s house. All the while, he holds onto the waistband of his pants and keeps yanking them upward when they threaten to slide down his legs. Lance wishes he could take a moment to revel in how hilarious the scene truly is, but the panic sets in fast that Keith is simply going to blow down the door and invite himself inside Lance’s parent’s house, so Lance is left scrambling to stuff everything into his backpack and hurry after him.</p><p>Just before they go inside, Lance shrugs off his cloak and hands it to Keith wordlessly. It’s a simple thing, just a hooded cape with a clasp at the neck, but if Keith keeps his wings folded low then it should just about cover him. It’ll look misshapen and ridiculous, but it will cover his bare skin. It’ll do until they can get him something personally tailored.</p><p>Begrudgingly, Keith snatches it from his hold and shrugs it on.</p><p>--</p><p>Dinner is, rather unsurprisingly, a disaster. </p><p>Lance had tried to warn Keith going into it that his family would be excitable and overwhelmed, but even then he may have underestimated just how chaotic it would be. Between his four siblings, their partners and spouses, his niece and nephew, his abuelita, his mother, and every last one of their respective familiars… the house is a madhouse at the best of times. Lance loves it, don’t get him wrong, there’s a reason he stuck so close to home and didn’t even move fully off the farm, he loves his family more than anything, that’s why he got himself into this mess in the first place.</p><p>It’s just, well, they’re a lot. And Keith is used to very little. He’s been kept in total isolation for years, in a more or less quiet room, with no reason to break said silence. To go from that to this would be jarring in itself, even for a completely stable person, which Lance is fairly certain Keith is not.</p><p>But somewhere between the “Mama, stop crying!” and the “Silvio, don’t you dare pull on his feathers!” and the “Rachel, I’m not lying, you’re just jealous my familiar is cooler than yours.”, they’d eventually all settled back into their seats and went back to eating. Lance, at the family table. Keith, at the familiar table. Truth be told, Lance never fully understood why they were separated, but he’d always figured it came more from a place of not having enough space at just one table than an actual desire to segregate them. After all, his family doted on their familiars, they were treated like equals and like best friends. </p><p>Lance considered them all his siblings as much as his actual siblings, though he’d never had that fabled personal bond with any of them that would come from having his own familiar. His own<em> real </em> familiar. </p><p>Now he isn’t sure he’ll ever have that.</p><p>But his family think he has it and he’s never seen them happier, they’re eons more excited than he is, than he would be even if Keith were his real familiar. They hug him until he’s sure he can’t breathe, they offer to make a cake, they try time and time again to drag Keith into conversation only for him to (rather politely) shrug them off. And it’s… nice. As much as it’s also bittersweet.</p><p>Lance hadn’t realized how much they were all waiting on this, how worried they all were about his lack of familiar. Bottom line, there was just no part of him that could have prepared for how hard this part of the plan was proving to be. To know that he’s lying to everyone he cares about most in the world, even if it’s to protect them is torture. It’s a fate as bad as the hellhounds, to know he’s getting their hopes up only to break their hearts when Keith inevitably leaves and they’re left questioning what was and wasn’t real. He can’t imagine how hard that’ll be.</p><p>He tries not to think too hard about it, as he eats his meal in relative silence and lets the rest of his family do the talking for him. They’ve always been chatty, it isn’t unusual or enough to raise suspicions, they’re too busy celebrating the new addition to the family to even notice the way he’s gone quiet and retreated into himself. </p><p>One thing at a time, he tells himself. He can handle one hurdle at a time, if he thinks about all of the things ahead of him, it’ll be too much to bear. He’ll deal with the hellhounds, then he’ll help Keith, then he’ll work on piecing his family dynamic back together when they start to question what he lied to them about. He just hopes that the whole truth never comes out. </p><p>Somehow, they survive the meal.</p><p>And after much fanfare, they even manage to leave his parent’s house and head back to the quiet and calm cottage that Lance calls home. Keith is… uncharacteristically agreeable, as Lance leads him out of the crowd and out into the cool night air. Even as they walk side-by-side back to his place, following familiar worn footpaths around the farm, Keith remains utterly silent. It’s almost eerie.</p><p>The very moment they stumble through the threshold into Lance’s home, he bursts with the need to break the silence. He can’t be alone with his own thoughts anymore, not in the wake of that family interaction. Besides, if Keith is planning a murderous rampage on his family, he’d like a heads up.</p><p>“That was a lot, huh? I promise they’re not usually that overwhelming, they were just really excited about this, way more than I could have guessed they’d be. Anyway, how are you holding up?” Lance feels chatty after biting his tongue all night, as he slumps down into one of the chairs surrounding his table. Keith doesn’t settle across from him, or at all, instead taking to pacing back and forth across the small room. </p><p>Lance already feels claustrophobic in such a small place at the best of times, but with a massive antsy phoenix prancing around, he feels his agitation grow. “Okay, spit it out, what’s your problem<em> this time </em>?”</p><p>“I won’t be going to your family suppers anymore. Under any circumstances.”</p><p>“Hm, and why the hell not?”</p><p>“I don’t want to.” Keith answers, his explanation leaving as much to be desired as always. Really, it reminds Lance of arguing with his three year old niece, who never has reason to back up any of the things that she throws a tantrum over. </p><p>However, Lance can’t even try his tried and true approach of comforting and consoling, because Keith wants nothing to do with that. He just wants Lance to rise to the challenge and fight him right back. And Lance doesn’t have the restraint to keep from giving in to those desires.</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry to be the person to break this to you, but sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. That’s life. If you want my help, you’re gonna have to give me yours. Meet me in the middle here, just a little bit, give me the barest hint that you care enough to try.”</p><p>“And I’m to believe your help is worth the effort?” Keith scoffs, throwing his head back and laughing like Lance has told an absolutely rich joke. “I<em> heard </em>what they were saying, Lance. Even if they didn’t say it outright, it was implied. You’re what, twenty-two, and you’ve never even summoned so much as a frog for a familiar?! You’re the laughing stock of the family, your magic was a mockery before you blackened it, and it’s probably even more pathetic now with all the limitations. In what world would you be able to help me? Why should I bother helping you?”</p><p>“Fuck you.” Lance spits, hands curling into angry fists at his sides. He’s spent a lifetime being ridiculed for something out of his control and he’s not about to stand by and let a stranger talk down to him. He’s come to terms with the fact he’s the black sheep of the family, in the same way his family has stopped expecting or demanding more of him. They’ve finally reached an understanding, it’s been years since the topic has really been breached at all, and he’s not enjoying the trip down memory lane now. He doesn’t want to be reminded of his failures, especially now that he’s thrown away what little opportunity he had by becoming a black magic user.</p><p>“Fuck you!” Keith shouts back without missing a beat, despite having absolutely no grounds in which to be this angry. What could have possibly set him off this time? Just the knowledge that Lance is the family disappointment? It should have been implied, all things considered, given that he was dragging an abandoned unwanted dangerous familiar in the first place.</p><p>Lance rises from his seat, finds solace in being eye-level with Keith while they have this argument, feels more like an equal and less like he’s being talked down to. Nevermind that Keith could easily overpower him, he knows this, but he’s not going to stand down and be walked all over like he did as a teenager when schoolyard kids would bully him about this very same topic. He’s grown since then. He has to believe he’s grown.</p><p>“I’m so incredibly sorry I made you sit at the kiddie table and eat a well-balanced meal. Was the steak too burnt for your liking? Would you have preferred your potatoes baked instead of mashed? I genuinely want to know, how could I be<em> more </em> accommodating? If anyone should be questioning this arrangement right now it’s me, because you’ve done nothing to make me believe you even want to help me, so whether you’re capable of it or not hardly <em> matters </em>!”</p><p>“Maybe I<em> won’t </em> help you then.” Keith says, lips curling into a wicked smile. “Maybe when the hounds come howling, I’ll stand by and watch them rip your body to shreds. Hell, maybe I’ll lead your mother to the massacre and let her have a front row seat as well, I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”</p><p>“You’re sick.”</p><p>“What did you fucking expect?! How naive can you be to think something as powerful and untameable as me would want a hand in your family affairs? I don’t give a shit if you break your mother’s heart, I don’t give a shit if yours stops beating. I have no stake in this. I just want my <em> freedom </em>.” Keith snarls at him, and it would be a terribly intimidating argument made, if it weren’t for the way his voice cracks on the final sentence. It doesn’t come across as intimidating then, instead it comes across as unhinged, lashing out of desperation rather than any genuine choice. Like it or not, Lance knows that Keith doesn’t have any other options left, and Keith knows it too.</p><p>“I’m not keeping you from it, Keith. If you wanna leave, you know where the door is.” Lance says firmly, nodding in the direction of the front door they’d traipsed through moments before. “But if you want my help in gaining that freedom? Then you’re gonna have to swallow your pride and help me back.”</p><p>Keith inhales sharply like he’s getting ready to come back with an even stronger argument, and Lance braces himself for it, but it never comes. He exhales and deflates, shoulders slumping, eyes dropping to the ground in a submissive gesture even as his entire body trembles with poorly-concealed discomfort.</p><p>“Where’s my bed?” Keith asks the question in the exact same tone as one would deliver an insult.</p><p>“The couch.” Lance answers, pointing toward the well-worn sofa in the corner. Keith takes one look at it and promptly starts shaking his head, like he can’t even fathom the suggestion.</p><p>“Yeah fucking right. I’ll take your bed, you can have the couch.” Keith scoffs, clumsily untying the clasp of Lance’s cloak and tossing it from his shoulders and onto the floor. He steps indifferently over it, heads for the closed door on the far side of the room. Given Lance’s entire cottage is only a three room ordeal, luck alone means he guessed the bedroom right first try rather than storming off into the bathroom. </p><p>--</p><p>It’s around noon the next day when Lance finally works up the nerve to venture into his own bedroom, where he assumes he’ll find Keith. They haven’t seen each other since going their separate ways the night before, and Lance spent a long sleepless night on the couch thinking about their last exchange, so he really hopes Keith is actually still around and he’ll get the chance to say his speech he’s been preparing for a good fifteen hours now. He’s quite proud of it, really. He’s a wordsmith in his own right and he figures if this doesn’t convince Keith to help him, then nothing will.</p><p>Only, he promptly forgets the entire speech when he walks into his room and sees the absolute chaos that has unfolded within. Immediately, he wants to shout, the initial wave of anger that washes over him is so strong that it’s almost blinding. How dare Keith stoop so low as to tear all of the clothes out of his wardrobe and throw them around the room, what kind of spiteful move even is that? </p><p>Was it his final goodbye before ducking out the window never to be seen again, because surely a literal murderer could have come up with something more devious than that?! It’s confusing and annoying and Lance is properly miffed, seconds away from voicing that ire, when he finally spots a few stray feathers sticking out of the mound of clothes on the bed. Suddenly, Lance snaps his jaw shut again.</p><p>As quiet as he possibly can, Lance tiptoes across the floor and approaches his bed like he’s approaching a rabid wild animal. It’s not all that much different, as he peers into the pile of his clothes and finds Keith curled up in the middle of them, almost like a bird in a… wait a fucking minute… did Keith make a nest out of his fucking clothes?! After making such a big deal about having to wear them at all?!</p><p>Lance narrows his eyes, feeling a surge of pettiness as he reaches into the nest and pokes Keith in the cheek. He mumbles something incoherent in his sleep, squirms uselessly away from Lance’s touch, massive wings shifting and sending half of the clothes he’d meticulously piled around himself falling to the floor. It’s… the least practical thing Lance has ever seen. </p><p>It infuriates him how much he finds it endearing rather than annoying now that he’s staring at a sleep-mussed, scowl-free, half-dressed Keith.</p><p>This time when he pokes Keith, he makes sure it’s hard enough to hurt a little bit, and he probably has it coming when Keith bolts upright and grabs onto his arm with a bruising grip. Lance cries out in pain, Keith yelps in apparent panic, and somewhere in the middle of the scramble Lance finds himself falling face-first into Keith’s nest with him. </p><p>“What the fuck, Lance?” Keith snarls, landing a foot on his hip and then kicking him brutally right out of his own bed. Lance hits the floor with a quiet thud, wacking his elbow off the nightstand in the process, and then they’re both left glaring at each other.</p><p>“Well, good morning to you too, asshole!”</p><p>“You woke me up by jabbing me in the face with your bony finger, if anyone’s the asshole it’s you!”</p><p>“You left me no choice, it was the only way to wake you! I was starting to wonder if you were planning on getting up today at all, excuse me for checking if you were kidnapped in your sleep!”</p><p>“Well, I haven’t been kidnapped, and unfortunately you haven’t been torn apart by hellhounds either, so thanks for your concern but it was unwarranted and unwanted!”</p><p>“You know what, if you wanna pick up where we left off last night, let’s do it.” Lance hisses angrily, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. Even before he opens his mouth, Keith is looking at him with what can only be described as a warning in his eyes, as if telling him what a poor idea it is to go where he’s set on going. Still, it doesn’t stop Lance, as he grabs an armful of his clothes from the structure of Keith’s nest, waving them around for emphasis. “What the hell is all this?!”</p><p>“A <em> nest </em>.” Keith grits out, and Lance thinks he might see smoke rising from his favorite shirt where it’s touching Keith’s hand, which pretty much answers his earlier question about whether Keith has control over it or not. Lance doubts that he’d willingly try to set the nest aflame, given those are his only building materials if he wants to make another.</p><p>And as much as Lance recognizes it must be a comfort thing of some sort, a simple luxury he was denied all this time while holed up in the familiar rehabilitation facility, he’s still going to make fun of him for it as mercilessly as he possibly can. It’s not often he has the upperhand or a hand at all to play in this back and forth game of theirs.</p><p>“Oh, right, okay. A nest like the common swallow makes, or a crow, or-” Lance is shut-up rather quickly by a pillow hurtling toward him at full speed. He barely manages to dodge in time to avoid being hit in the face. Instead it hits him in the shoulder with enough force to have him stumbling on his feet, threatening to topple over completely. “Ow?!”</p><p>“Get out!” Keith screeches, distinctly banshee-like, his wings puffed up in a defensive pose behind himself. It’s the first time he’s looked genuinely upset, the first time anything Lance has said or done has managed to so much as chip away at that calm and collected exterior act he has going on. And Lance can’t even deny that he feels the slightest bit bad. Keith looks properly embarrassed, like it was a sensitive subject, and Lance knows from the night before what a terrible thing it is to have salt poured into old wounds.</p><p>Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut about phoenix customs until he actually understands what they are. </p><p>“Okay, okay, I’m going!” Lance ducks out of the room before Keith can stage another attack, hurrying off toward the kitchen. He’d already made breakfast for himself hours ago, but he finds himself moving about the room and preparing a second meal now despite himself. Keith has rejected or refused almost everything Lance has offered him so far, but there was one time he didn’t even hesitate to graciously accept what was being offered, and it was when Lance handed him the plate of stew last night.</p><p>A creature of his size and stature, even in this form, must need a lot of food to maintain itself.</p><p>So Lance cooks the bastard a breakfast all of his own. It takes him a good twenty minutes and Keith still hasn’t left the room by the time he’s finished, so he goes to knock. His knuckles just barely touch the door when it’s wrenched out from under them, almost like Keith had been waiting on him to make the first move. Keith stares at him, looking expectant. </p><p>If he’s hoping for an apology, he can<em> forget it. </em></p><p>“If you’re hoping for an apology, you can forget it.”</p><p>“I wasn’t. Your words are worthless to me.” Keith answers coolly, standing taller to peer over Lance’s shoulder toward the food. There’s no denying the spark of interest in his eyes, but the point is really driven home when he licks his lips, almost as if imagining the taste. Lance smirks up at him.</p><p>“Hungry? Or should I go pluck some worms from the ground for you?”</p><p>“You already smell like dirt.” Keith comments indifferently, wordlessly shoving past him and heading straight for the food, with or without Lance’s approval. </p><p>“Yeah, well some of us actually get up before midday and accomplish things. I’ve transplanted a couple hundred tomato plants today while you were drooling into my entire wardrobe.” Lance trails behind him across the room, but Keith shows no sign of hearing him whatsoever. He stands aside as Keith helps himself to a heaping helping of food, falling into a seat at Lance’s table like he’s done so a million times before. Like he has any right to. Lance doesn’t realize he’s glaring until Keith is halfway through his meal and glances over at him, a single eyebrow quirked in question.</p><p>“What’s<em> your </em>problem?” Keith asks, and Lance has to bite down on his tongue to keep from firing back something equally as instigative. He manages it, barely, because he thinks back on that perfect speech he’d spent hours dreaming up. It’s a little late for that now, it’d only come across as mocking with the atmosphere between them at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he can’t salvage what he can. </p><p>He just wants to walk away from this exchange with them on good terms, or even better terms than they were. He wants to know for a fact that Keith is going to help him, not hinder him on purpose.</p><p>“It’s the family business… gardening, I mean. We grow vegetables and whatnot mostly for ourselves and the locals, but our main focus is in herbs. For healing, potion-making, spices, you name it. We stock stores across the continent, our last name is practically a household name at this point. I don’t know, you probably haven’t heard of us, you’ve been living under a rock. But I promise you, we’re a thing.”</p><p>“Huh.” Keith chews obnoxiously loudly on a piece of ham, considering. “Should I<em> care </em> about any of this information or are you just talking for the fun of it?”</p><p>Lance calls on the last shreds of his self-control to force a smile and laugh it off.</p><p>“No, not necessarily, I know it doesn’t really affect you one way or another.” Lance admits, looking down at the tiling beneath his bare feet. “But I’m asking you to care about it.<em> Please </em> . Like it or not, I need your help. I don’t have anyone else to turn to. And, though you’re absolutely an asshole and the most standoffish <em> peacock </em> I’ve ever met-”</p><p>“You’re on thin ice.” Keith cuts in, pointing a fork in his direction.</p><p>“I think, even though you’re skeptical of me, you’re gonna take any help you can get.” Lance says lightly, giving Keith plenty of room to interject with a denial if he sees fit. Only he doesn’t, because the truth is they’re both all they have left, they’re each other’s last resort. Instead, Keith drops his fork onto his empty plate, wings folding behind his chair as if to hug it. He looks uncharacteristically dismal. “I am being completely honest right now. I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to help get you out of whatever situation you’re in, if you help me out of mine. I <em> need </em> you.”</p><p>“Fine.” Keith says, and it doesn’t sound like an insult, it doesn’t even sound begrudged. He just sounds defeated, like he’s already accepted that this is the case but was waiting for Lance to be the one to extend the olive branch. He looks up then, unnaturally bright purple eyes focusing directly on Lance with something other than indifference or annoyance, something fierce and determined. Lance doesn’t know what to do with it, so he looks away.  “So, what do we do now? Bide our time until the hounds come?”</p><p>“I guess so.” Lance croaks awkwardly, still trying to reign his racing heart back into his chest, unsure of why it’s so flighty in the first place. He’s not scared of Keith, not really, there’s no use being scared of anything when the alternative is being torn to shreds by hellhounds. If anything, Keith would be kinder to him if he were to go the murderous route. “You, um, wanna learn how to grow chamomile?”</p><p>“Not particularly.” Keith shoots him down mercilessly. Lance hardly has time to feel disappointed before he’s rising to his feet though, his wings glowing that slightest bit brighter, like the flame behind them has been stoked. “How about we practice your magic instead. I’d like to see what you’re capable of before we try to fight our enemies together, if that’s not asking too much.”</p><p>It’s not, really. Asking too much. And yet Lance still can’t give him what he’s asking.</p><p>“Huh. We could, but that chamomile really needs planted and-”</p><p>“Lance.”</p><p>“It’s just, I haven’t really used my magic since saving my mother? I’ve had a lot going on.”</p><p>“All the more reason to try it and try to get a feel for it sooner rather than later.”</p><p>“Yeah, maybe.” Lance agrees, wondering why Keith has chosen now of all times to make a fucking reasonable comment. Of course what he’s saying makes sense, it’s like getting bucked off a horse, the sooner you get back on the sooner you’ll move on from it. Probably. Only Lance doesn’t want to move on from it, isn’t sure he can. Everything about his magic will be different now, or at least that’s how the stories make it sound. It’s too risky to mess around with something he doesn’t understand when it isn’t a matter of saving a loved one’s life.</p><p>“Well?”</p><p>“Look, I wasn’t really planning on ever using it again. Mostly because I thought I’d be dead, but also… I don’t know. My magic was never much of anything before so I doubt I’d be a threat to literally anyone, but I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about dark magic turning you evil.”</p><p>“I have.” Keith nods his head, eyeing Lance in consideration, as if waiting for him to elaborate. In the end, he just gives in and continues on his own. “They’re just that. Stories. Black magic isn’t necessarily evil magic. You can practice it and still be a good person with good intentions, the same way terrible people can live their entire lives never touching black magic. Magic is magic, it doesn’t shape you, you shape it.”</p><p>“You’re probably right.” Lance worries his bottom lip between his teeth, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. “... <em> But </em>can we start with the chamomile? For today?”</p><p>He’s not exactly sure why he’s asking Keith for permission like he should be the deciding factor anyway, he just really doesn’t want this to become an area of contempt for them. He’s not sure he could handle Keith grilling him for answers or making fun of him about this. It’s too new, too raw. He’d never had much in terms of magic, but of course the loss is hitting him hard. </p><p>For a moment, he worries that Keith is going to say no, going to make a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be. But then he just shrugs his shoulders.</p><p>“Please tell me you aren’t gonna make me wear that ridiculous cloak around.”</p><p>“No, you can be shirtless. We’ll look into getting you some clothes tailored later today.” </p><p>“This will definitely be a change of pace from the shit my previous masters had me do.” Keith says, his tone decisive. From there, Lance rushes to get his boots back on, offers Keith up a pair of his own used ones that though worn, look more comfortable than the slippers the prison had sent him home with. As he gets ready, Lance’s mind keeps drifting back to what Keith had said.</p><p>He doesn’t want to pry, but his curiosity is definitely getting the better of him already. </p><p>“What… kinda shit <em> did </em> they have you do?” The question leaves him in a hushed breath, the sort-of thing that’d be easy for Keith to ignore if he chose to. Keith definitely stiffens up at the question, pausing where he’d been in the middle of lacing his borrowed shoes. He looks up, face set in a hard frown, all sharp and angular lines. Whenever he gets like this, Lance is reminded of why phoenixes have the reputation they do for being a fearsome and intimidating beast.</p><p>“Erma gave you the speech, did she not?” Keith chuckles, dark and unamused. He gets up, stretching his arms above his head, and Lance’s gaze can’t help but flicker to where his wings stretch with the movement. Keith suddenly starts toward him and Lance reels back, worried he’s going to hit him for staring despite all his claims of indifference. But then he simply extends a hand in offering, as if for a shake, and Lance reluctantly does just that. “Certified <em> cannon fodder </em>, nice to meet you.”</p><p>“I thought that was an intimidation tactic, the truth be told. I figured some of you must have been in for less severe things than others. Just like human prisons.”</p><p>“Not at all like human prisons, if a familiar ends up in a place like that they’re a lost cause.” Keith growls back at him, like he’s offended by the idea that he might not be the monster everyone chocks him up to be. Lance is left struggling to understand why in the world he’d find that offensive when Keith turns around and heads for the door. Lance scrambles to catch up with him, bounding up to his side again underneath the midday sun. It’s beaming down on them enough to leave burns if they’re not careful, but somehow he feels like that won’t be a problem for Keith.</p><p>“I don’t think you are, you know.” Lance says conversationally, as he leads the way to the far greenhouse reserved for growing herbs. Keith hums beside him, a disinterested noise, hardly something to encourage Lance to continue. He does anyway. “A lost cause, I mean. <em> I </em> think that <em> you </em> think it’s just easier to dismiss yourself as such than it is to try again. I think you’re scared of what it might mean if you fail even when you put your full effort into it.”</p><p>“For such a stupid person, you seem to do an awful lot of thinking.” Keith mutters under his breath. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, and for your sake I’m going to keep it that way. Just trust me when I say that there is no trying again for me, no one wants a <em> used </em> familiar.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Lance blurts, hand darting out to grab Keith’s arm. It’s hot to the touch, hotter than even the sun should allow, but he doesn’t immediately retreat in fear of ending up burned. He lets his touch linger and is pleasantly surprised to find pain doesn’t accompany the amount of heat. It’s just very warm, like a child running a fever. A natural sort-of warmth.</p><p>Keith looks down at Lance’s hand against his skin like it’s the furthest thing from natural, and then politely steps away out of his reach. Lance lets his hand drop back to his side, tries not to take the rejection personally. He doubts that Keith really lets anyone touch him that casually, probably never has.</p><p>“There’s nothing to be sorry for. That’s what being a familiar’s all about, isn’t it? Serving blindly, following orders like an obedient little pet, until it gets you killed. Some people are just intent on the killing part coming sooner.”</p><p>“That’s not right.”</p><p>“What difference does it make? If anything, saves me a lifetime of servitude to die sooner.”</p><p>“No, I meant your ideas about familiars aren’t right. They’re totally warped.” Lance insists, confidence growing behind his words the longer he thinks about it. It unsettles him deeply that Keith thinks like that, that the people in Keith’s life have never tried to convince or tell him otherwise. What kind of existence must that be? To think your only purpose is to serve people who would never serve you in turn? People who could get on just as easily without you around? No wonder Keith is such a cynical asshole.</p><p>“Is that so? What would you know about it, not like you’ve ever had a familiar.”</p><p>“You’re right, I haven’t, but it doesn’t take much more than common sense to see that you’re just as much your own being as anyone else. You have desires, fears, dreams, passions, all outside of your ability to serve a master. If all you were made to do was be an errandboy for some cockhead mage, then why would the universe give you a personality at all?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“I don’t know much, but I know that a <em> true </em> master would never treat you like a servant, they’d treat you like an equal. A good mage sees a familiar as an asset, a great mage sees their familiar as a friend, and the best mages see them as their partner, their other half. You’re <em> both </em> stronger for it when you work as a team. You both offer something irreplaceable, something the other one needs. It’s a relationship, and all good relationships have give and take, not just take. There has to be a balance.”</p><p>“Look at you, such bold opinions.” Keith whistles low under his breath, oozing sarcasm. Lance’s jaw drops, shocked that even in the face of something so serious Keith would be willing to mock him for it outright. “Naive and idealistic, sure, but what the hell? Go on believing that the world is a place where things are ever perfectly balanced. I’m sure your<em> frog </em>will be very appreciative when you finally manage to summon them.”</p><p>With that, Keith pushes open the doors to the greenhouse and steps inside. He stands out almost comically among the walls of crawling green vines and blooming potted plants, a wall of fiery red from behind with those wings framing his silhouette. He barely fits down the tiny aisles and Lance wonders if it was really a good idea to bring him here, if he’ll end up damaging more produce than he actually plants. But it feels right, feels like the sort-of thing he’d be doing to get to know his real familiar, if he had one. And Keith isn’t his by any stretch of the word, Keith is no one’s, but if they want to work together to help each other then they’ll need to form<em> some </em> kind of bond.</p><p>Lance steps in after him and closes the door, closing his eyes and taking a moment to relish the feeling of warm sun beating down on him through the thick sheet of plastic overhead. He’d like a longer moment to bask in it as he normally does, but the sound of a clay pot shattering has his eyes snapping open and landing on a vaguely guilty-looking phoenix across the aisle from him. He sighs.</p><p>“For the record, if I summon a frog I’ll be thankful, because at least I wouldn’t have to worry about them knocking everything over with their <em> massive fucking wings </em>.”</p><p>“You know, I always thought hellhounds were more of an immediate fate. They’re really taking their time with you, maybe they’ve decided you aren’t worth the effort it’d take to come collect your soul.”</p><p>“Fuck off.” Lance snipes back at him, kneeling down to clean up the mess of broken clay. Surprisingly, Keith bends down to help him with it, until they’re both uselessly fumbling around and hindering each other more than they’re helping. More than once, their hands brush, and Lance is left with an unsettling lingering warmth where they’d touched. It’s hard not to focus on it, hard to concentrate on anything else.</p><p>After that, they settle into a corner of the greenhouse and Lance starts his tutorial on planting. Keith is a natural of course, he catches on infuriatingly fast, considering he hates every second of it. He isn’t exactly vocal about how much he hates it, but the contempt seems to roll off of him in waves, until Lance can hardly think around the tenseness in the air between them. He keeps glancing up, expecting to find Keith has thrown it all aside and stormed off in an angry fit. In all honesty, he’d probably prefer that.</p><p>Instead, he finds Keith doing more of the same, meticulously poking seeds down into dirt, misery plain in his eyes but visible utterly nowhere else. It’s unnerving, how dedicated to the task, like he doesn’t think he’s allowed to be anything but. Lance wonders if this is how he was for past masters, if they utilized that obedience for their own gain, if they even noticed that Keith was miserable the entire time.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>“Are you almost done with that packet of seeds? Maybe you should take a break after that, get outside and get some air, stretch your wings a bit.” Lance suggests as casually as he can, not wanting to come across as sympathetic, though that’s exactly what he is. He figures he knows Keith well enough by now to know that anything that could be mistaken as pity would set him off. But Keith just shrugs his shoulders, looks up at him boredly, and makes no effort to leave. </p><p>So Lance keeps babbling to fill the silence, to try and make it somehow less grueling of a task. He’s not sure he’s helping as much as making it worse for him, but Keith doesn’t snap at him to shut-up, and so he doesn’t. He just keeps going.</p><p>“You don’t like this, do you?”</p><p>“I’d definitely be having more fun if you needed someone to set fire to plants, if that’s what you’re asking. Hell, I’d take a bonfire at this point.”</p><p>“It’s not so boring when you think about what you’re doing. I know it’s a long process, but it really is rewarding when you think about it. You’re creating life, making something out of nothing. How many other instances can you say that’s possible?”</p><p>“Well, creating life has never been my specialty as much as taking it.” Keith mutters under his breath, quiet, and Lance has to fight back a smile at hearing the displeasure in his tone. That’s more like the Keith he’s come to know. He doesn’t really mind that Keith doesn’t like gardening, if anything it’s a nice break, given his entire family’s obsession. Lance likes it as much as the next guy, but damn, they’re almost intimidating in how committed they are. Lance isn’t sure he’s ever liked anything or anyone enough to commit like they do to their gardens.</p><p>He wonders if Keith would find it patronizing to know that Lance often feels like a black sheep, or if he’d find a sense of solace in knowing he isn’t alone with those feelings. Lance debates it for a long time this time around before he speaks up and breaks the silence again.</p><p>“Don’t I relate to that? I swear, everyone else in this family was blessed with a green thumb and mine was black as death before I ever dabbled in black magic. They use their magic on the plants and they bloom in colorful flowers, I use my magic and they rot into the dirt.” </p><p>“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it someday.” Keith replies distractedly, as he reaches for another packet of seeds to start the entire process again. And Lance just can’t watch it, even though it’s nothing more than mundane and boring, Lance can’t stomach the idea that Keith might think he has no choice in this, that it’s his<em> role </em> as a <em> familiar </em> . <em> Fuck that </em>.</p><p>He reaches out and snatches the seeds out of Keith’s reach just in time. Keith does not look impressed.</p><p>“I was serious about the break, you’ve earned it. Go outside and transform into your other form, fly around a little bit to work your muscles out. I know this is hardly the sort-of thing you want to be doing.”</p><p>“I can’t.”</p><p>“No, really, it’s no trouble. If the hounds come, I’m sure you’ll see them from way up in the sky.”</p><p>“No, I <em> physically </em>can’t.” Keith reiterates, a bit angrier this time. Lance isn’t sure what he said wrong.</p><p>“What do you mean? You’re a phoenix, nothing can keep you from the sky in the same way nothing can keep a fish from water. It’s like, your thing.” Lance scoffs, expecting Keith to agree with him on that at least. And he does, sort-of, nodding his head along with everything Lance says. But the sadness doesn’t leave his eyes, if anything it grows more intense, and Lance feels swamped with guilt just looking at him and knowing he contributed to his misery somehow. “<em> Keith </em>?”</p><p>With an air of resignation about him, Keith turns around in the spot until his back is facing Lance instead.</p><p>“It’s not so easy to tell in this form, but if you look close enough...” Keith is careful as he spreads his feathers apart and it takes Lance a long moment to even realize what he’s looking at. Among the shorter feathers, there seem to be places that once hosted longer feathers, but they’re cut off midway and left with blunt unnatural edges. Lance feels his blood run cold in realization. “They’ll grow back. Eventually. <em> Probably </em>. Phoenix only moult every half century or so though, so it’ll take a while.”</p><p>“<em> Why </em>?”</p><p>“He didn’t want me to get away.” Keith says it as straightforwardly as a third party witness, totally uninvested, emotionally removed from the entire situation. Lance wonders how many years of grief it took to reach that level of complacency in his fate. Wonders if he had to suffer through it entirely alone.</p><p>Lance feels all of his resolve crumble like an avalanche, his heart aching in his chest, his muscles jumping with the physical need to reach out and pull Keith into a hug. He’s never heard something so awful in his entire life. To think that Keith had to live through that, possibly sat there and took it like a good little familiar because he thought it was what he was meant to do… Lance can’t stomach it. He can’t.</p><p>So much for not getting attached because he’d be a fucking liar to claim he wasn’t after this.</p><p>“What a fucking monster.” Lance says firmly, the moment his voice has come back to him. Keith almost seems startled by the sudden outburst, by the ferocity behind it. His eyes go impossibly wide, fixed on Lance as they are, oddly invested for someone trying to play themselves off as above it all. Lance reaches across the mess of dirt and planting trays between them, places his hand on Keith’s. “Truth be told? I don’t know how anyone could blame you for killing him after he did something like this to you. To take away such a vital part of you, however temporary… he deserved what was coming to him. And maybe it was harsh, to take everything from him in response, but I know I’ll rest easier knowing he won’t ever do anything like this to another familiar again. I think you’ve done the world a favor in ridding it of him.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Keith responds quietly, looking overwhelmed in the worst of ways, eyes darting around the room like he’s searching for a quick exit. He looks near tears with it and Lance can only imagine that that’s his worst case scenario, showing that level of emotion to another person.</p><p>“You don’t thank me for rescuing you from that prison, but you thank me for approving of your murderous tendencies?” Lance cracks a joke because he doesn’t know what he’d do if Keith actually were to break down into tears in front of him. He wouldn’t know how to react. </p><p>Keith suits him with a dull stare, but even annoyance is better than that devastation from before.</p><p>Lance is quick to backtrack, not wanting to offend him. “I know, you didn’t<em> need </em> to be rescued. Still, you can’t deny that gardening is better than staring at a wall, no matter how boring it is.”</p><p>“You have dirt on your forehead.” Keith replies, deadpan. He still doesn’t look particularly impressed, but Lance finds that he’s almost starting to grow fond of his scowl, he’s so used to seeing it. He reaches up to swipe at his forehead, pulling his hand away only to find it covered in dirt. </p><p>And then Keith takes to laughing. It’s not cruel and calculated like all the times he’s laughed at Lance up until this point, it’s entirely unfiltered and genuine. Moments ago, Lance was worried he’d grown fond of the scowl Keith always wore, but he’s immediately smitten with his smile instead. Wide and brimming with joy, dimples showing, eyes crinkling at the corners. And how he glows, entire wings burning bright enough to challenge the sun beaming down on them, his eyes bright and sparkling. </p><p>He looks like an entirely different person. Like someone who doesn’t have years of pain and loneliness weighing down on them. Lance is awed by it, can’t think of a single useful thing to say.</p><p>Eventually, Keith quiets again, enough to sheepishly compose himself and then point at Lance’s forehead as if he needs to explain himself for laughing in the first place. “I think you missed it.”</p><p>Lance knows for a fact that he did worse than miss it, that he absolutely smeared even more dirt all across his face, not remembering the state of his hand. He probably looks ridiculous.</p><p>“Gone?” Lance asks, holding his hair back so Keith has a good view of his forehead. Immediately, Keith shakes his head, but when Lance goes to try and clean himself again… he feels Keith’s warm hand curl around his wrist, pulling it back. Lance goes perfectly still as Keith crowds into his space and uses his sleeve to rub across Lance’s face and clean him.</p><p>“Gone.” Keith confirms as he pulls away. “I’m gonna go for a walk. Is that okay?”</p><p>“Sure thing.” Lance chokes out, cheeks aching slightly with the strain of holding his smile. Keith gives him a quick once-over, a huff of amusement leaving his lips at whatever he sees. And if Lance isn’t mistaken, if he squints just right to watch as Keith leaves… he thinks the bastard might even be grinning too.</p><p>--</p><p>The next few days pass in a blur. It’s not that the dread ever fully leaves Lance’s mind, it’s always there lurking in the darkest shadows, but it certainly does take a backstage to the blinding light of Keith’s wings when he’s happy. Genuinely happy. It’s still a rare display, only a handful of times in the three full days they’ve spent together, but Lance has made it his personal mission to uncover it more often. If only because it makes the darkness of his own mind more bearable as he waits for his fate to find him.</p><p>He’s found that Keith doesn’t mind gardening so much as a whole, just the mundane and simple act of poking holes into dirt. He takes to the more physically demanding aspects surprisingly well, until he’s steadily plowing fields and digging new gardens that Lance then follows behind and actually plants the herbs in. It works surprisingly well actually, considering Lance always hated the tasks that were more strenuous. Plus, it helps to work off some of Keith’s restlessness, and their bickering grows steadily less frequent as the days pass them by.</p><p>Right now they’re in much the same position they’ve been in most afternoons, Keith working away by his own free will, and Lance sprawled out in the sun also by his own free will. He’d only meant to take a short break, but he’s been lounging out beneath this apple tree for the better part of an hour now. He can’t help but wonder if Keith is judging him for it.</p><p>He doesn’t seem to be though. Instead he seems completely invested in his work, concentrated like it’s a task that requires deep thought rather than just lots of strength and energy. Lance sits up a little bit and goes back to watching him. He really does look out of place, a creature as mythic and powerful as he is, shirtless and plowing the fields like a common farmhand. Though, as out of place as he is, Lance can’t deny that he’s really starting to enjoy his company. He takes it all with a grain of salt of course, isn’t sure what’s real and what’s an act for their common goal, but… well, it’s nice to have him around. Especially nice to look at.</p><p>“You know, I think your familiar’s starting to get the hang of this.” Rachel’s voice startles him, he hadn’t even heard her approaching. It breaks him out of his thoughts, has him feeling hot under the collar for entirely different reasons, embarrassment bubbling up inside of him. He wonders if Rachel noticed just how closely he was staring. He wonders what it means that he was at all. Probably means that he’s spent far too long on the farm and should go back to trying to meet people. “Kind of a boring life for a phoenix, isn’t it? I almost feel bad for the poor thing.”</p><p>Ah, right, Rachel is trying to hold an actual conversation with him.</p><p>“I think boring suits him just fine.” Lance says then, recalling the horrors of Keith’s past. As much as he’s probably restless here, surely it’s better than where he came from. From across the field, he notices the way Keith slows in his work, blatantly eavesdropping on them. Lance smirks. “And stop talking about him like he can’t hear you, you know he can.”</p><p>“Well, he’s never addressed me directly, I don’t know why<em> I </em> should.” Rachel argues, plopping down in the grass next to Lance, placing the tray of lemonade she’d been carrying between the two of them as an offering. Lance graciously accepts one and downs it in three quick gulps. Meanwhile, she watches Keith work for a moment, then turns back to Lance with a curious hum. “What’d you say his name was?”</p><p>“Keith.”</p><p>“Why the hell would you name him something so…<em> lame </em>?”</p><p>“He chose it himself.” Lance isn’t sure if it’s the truth, he has no idea where the name came from, if it was even his first. He just knows that Keith doesn’t seem to mind it and hasn’t made any effort to change it, so he figures it’s what he prefers. “Besides, I think it suits him.<em> He</em> is lame.”</p><p>He’s aware that Keith overhears this too, can see his scowl from where he sits.</p><p>“Lance, I don’t know if you have any idea what you’re doing when it comes to handling a phoenix. You’re really, really not supposed to insult them. They have a crazy sense of pride and they’re quick to anger, I mean, look at him. It’s like owning one of those headstrong roosters that attacks your ankles every time you turn around.”</p><p>“You’re not wrong, there <em> are </em>definite similarities.” Lance agrees, watches as Keith swipes a hand across his sweaty forehead and then drops all pretenses of focusing on his work at all. He turns to stare directly at them and Lance lifts his hand in a teasing little wave, and then Keith is stomping through the mud in his too-big secondhand boots like a man on a mission. “There is one major difference though.”</p><p>“Oh? And what’s that?”</p><p>“I don’t <em> own </em> him. No one does. He’s his own person.” Lance informs her plainly, turning to her with eyebrows raised. He half expects her to challenge him and argue schematics about familiars, at the very least rush to her own defense and regret using such vague words at all. But instead she just smiles a knowing smile, like Lance has passed a test he hadn’t even been aware he was taking. </p><p>Keith stops in front of them at about that time, drops a shovel unceremoniously into the grass by Lance’s feet and then nods toward him. He gestures vaguely behind himself, but Lance understands the unspoken and leans to the side to peer around him, surveying his latest work.</p><p>“Row’s dug.”</p><p>“Congratulations. You managed to stay mostly straight this time.” Lance praises. Then, he lifts another cup of lemonade toward him, flashing a toothy smile. “You want a drink? Rach brought lemonade.”</p><p>“... Sure.” Keith says, as reluctant to accept gifts as he is praise. He takes it though, even makes a point to make eye contact with Rachel over the rim of his glass as he takes his first sip. His first and only sip, considering he chugs the entire fucking glass in one long swig, and Lance is left gaping at him as he hands back the empty cup. He nods at Rachel then, the only time he’s so much as acknowledged that the rest of Lance’s family exists. “Thanks.”</p><p>“No problem?” Rachel sounds understandably confused, but she’s trying, Lance can tell. It’s clear she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and make matters more tense between them. “And, uh, maybe I wasn’t clear enough about this the night we met. You came as a really big shock to everyone, we just weren’t expecting any new familiars in the family for a while, much less a phoenix, much less from Lance. So, well, welcome to the McClain clan.”</p><p>For a long moment, Keith just stares at her. Unblinking, impassive, void of any emotion whatsoever.</p><p>“Keith?” Lance prompts eventually, stretching his leg out to gently kick at Keith’s foot. That seems to snap him back to attention, as he takes a firm step backward to put space between them. He’s not exactly the most touchy-feely being Lance has ever met, not by a long stretch. If anything, it seems to repulse him a little bit, even the most casual of things.</p><p>“I should get back to work.” Keith says then, like that’s an answer at all, and then turns on his heel and marches right back out into his rows of dirt. Lance doesn’t know how to break it to him that they really don’t need anymore rows dug, that this is already overkill. They struggle sometimes to take care of the amount of plants they have, it’s just stupid to plant many more, especially when Keith won’t be sticking around throughout the entire season to help with the rest of it.</p><p>“For how much of a social butterfly you are, he’s really a stilted awkward thing, isn’t he?” Rachel comments as he walks away, though this time she does drop her voice to a real whisper. Even still, Lance is fairly certain Keith can probably hear them.</p><p>“Your familiar isn’t supposed to be your identical, they’re supposed to compliment you.”</p><p>“<em> Does </em> he compliment you?” The skepticism doesn’t go unnoticed. “He’s kind of <em> scary </em>, Lance.”</p><p>“He’s not. He’s all bark, no bite. I’m more scared of Del than I am of him.” Lance insists, and it’s mostly the truth if he’s being honest. At least with Keith he gets exactly what he sees, he knew what he was getting into with him, it literally said it on the tin. Whereas Del is nowhere near as straightforward and honest about her intentions. She’s sneaky and backhanded, to say the least. “Where’s she at anyway? Not like her to stray far from your side.”</p><p>“She, uh, decided to sit this one out.” Rachel says, and the way she fumbles through it is almost as much of a giveaway as Del not being here at all was. In the five years since Rachel summoned her, Lance is sure he can count the amount of times he’s seen Rachel without the cat by her side on literally one hand. As a pair, they’re inseparable. </p><p>So, when Lance turns to Rachel with eyebrows raised disbelieving, she caves almost embarrassingly fast and tells him the truth. “She doesn’t really like Keith.”</p><p>Lance gets the distinct feeling that that’s the understatement of the century.</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“Don’t get offended. She says that he smells… off. Not like you <em> or </em>your magic.” Leave it to the fucking cat to catch him in his lie, he should have thought about that possibility more. He hopes he has as good of a pokerface as his mother because right now he can’t afford to have Rachel see right through his indifferent act. It must work, because she sounds sheepish as she continues, like she’s ashamed to be relaying the thoughts of her familiar at all. “She thinks he’s a mistake, that somehow you messed up the spell and it gave you him entirely by accident. A physical manifestation of your fuck-up. A not-quite familiar for a not-quite incantation. A phoenix with none of the power of a phoenix. She says there’s a reason we haven’t seen him fly, or his flame.”</p><p>“Well, Delphinium always has been a catty bitch, hasn’t she?” </p><p>“Lance! You said you wouldn’t get offended!” Rachel punches him in the arm and it’s hard enough that it’ll definitely leave a nasty bruise behind, but he can’t bring himself to regret it when he hears Keith’s quiet snort of laughter from a good fifteen feet away. Besides, he’d never once agreed to not get offended, that wasn’t the sort-of thing a person could control.</p><p>And right now, he’s certain that there’s nothing he could do to control his reaction, as fierce and visceral as it is.<em> A not-quite familiar for a not-quite incantation </em>rings in his ears and he knows it must do the same for Keith, who already has so many reasons to doubt himself. Keith is anything but a person in need of a hero to rescue them and defend their virtue, he can handle himself just fine. But Lance can’t stand by and let his sister say those things, whether she thinks them or not. He just can’t.</p><p>“He’s my <em> familiar </em> , Rachel, what do you fucking expect me to do when you sit there and criticize him so harshly? Would you sit by and let me talk about Del that way?” Lance watches for Keith’s reaction to this statement, to the lie that it is, but Keith has gone back to work now and doesn’t acknowledge the words <em> my familiar </em>with so much as a snort or a glance in his direction. </p><p>Even without bothering to ask, Lance knew his sister’s answer to the question he asked. She just shrugs her shoulders though, taking the coward’s way out. And he lets her, because he’s a good brother, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t going to say his piece. “Besides, what does it matter if he can fly or catch shit on fire? Can Del do either of those things?”</p><p>“Well, obviously not, she’s a cat, not a-”</p><p>“Do you look at her as any lesser because she can’t?”</p><p>“Of course not!” Rachel sounds offended by the mere assumption that she might,  but that’s what Lance had been going for anyway. He raises his eyebrows at her for emphasis, and though she seems to understand his point already, he takes the time to elaborate and really drive it home.</p><p>“Then why would I treat him differently if <em> he </em> couldn’t? His value isn’t in what he can do, it’s in who he is as an individual. He’s a being with thoughts and feelings, not a tool to do my bidding.”</p><p>“Well, I can’t deny that you’re right.” Rachel hums thoughtfully, looking him over with recognition in her eyes, like she’s seeing him truly for the first time. When her hand settles on his shoulder, light and grounding, a gently encouraging gesture… Lance can’t help but lean into it. “You know, little brother, I had my own doubts too. If you two were a good fit, if you were even ready for a familiar.”</p><p>“Yeah, I figured you did. You and Del are practically the same entity, after all.”</p><p>“<em> But </em>, I see now that I was wrong to assume.” Rachel insists, her tone firm. It’s not like her to be serious about much, and it’s rarer still for her to be so genuine with Lance, so he sees it for what it is and meets her steady gaze. The pride shining in her eyes alone is an entire wordless conversation of its own. “Your bond is different than mine, but it’s still there. I’m really happy for you, Lance.”</p><p>“W-Well, uh, thanks. I appreciate it.” Lance tells her with a nod, forcing an awkward smile.</p><p>“I’m gonna head back inside, but let’s catch up later, yeah? Maybe we can reintroduce Keith and Del, show her that she got the wrong idea about him. I’d love for our familiars to be friends.” She gets to her feet as she says it, starts walking off in the direction that she’d came. </p><p>“Yeah, sure, I’d like that too.” Lance manages, his voice unmistakably choked. Rachel doesn’t call him out on it though, just winks at him like she thinks he’s emotional for entirely different reasons, like he’s unsure of what to do with affection when it’s coming from her.</p><p>And it’s true, he is far more used to being lovingly bullied by her than whatever this is. She is the sibling closest in age to him, after all. They’d been forced to share everything growing up, of course a rivalry had formed. But in the same way they’d always been at each other’s throats, they’d also been the first to come to each other’s defense when anyone else went against them. It makes Lance wonder if she’s the only member of his family having doubts about Keith, or if she’s just the first to approach him and be honest about it.</p><p>Either way, he’s glad she’s willing to hear him out and listen to what he’s saying. It’s just a little bit bittersweet to waste her time, knowing that in the end she’s right. Keith may not be evil or a mistake, but he isn’t the right fit for Lance either, and he won’t be staying. There is no bond, not a familiar-mage one anyway, as their relationship is strictly limited to goals being met. The moment they’ve gotten what they need from each other, the bond will dissolve. And that’s not how a relationship with a familiar is meant to be at all. He doesn’t want to think about how his family will react when the time comes.</p><p>He also doesn’t want to think about how <em> he’ll </em> react when the time comes. He thinks he might miss Keith’s presence in his life, demanding and annoying as he can be. It’s just <em> nice </em>. Makes him put a lot of thought into what it would be like to have an actual familiar to share his days with, especially with how they’re steadily progressing their relationship to something less hostile. He’d love to be making that progress and know in his heart that it isn’t futile, isn’t just a waste of time.</p><p>“Another row done.” Keith’s announcement startles Lance again, and it takes him a few seconds to blink away his thoughts and actually look up at the phoenix looming over him. He quickly lights up into a smile though, reaching a hand up. Keith begrudgingly takes it, yanking him onto his feet. Lance gives a quick cursory glance at Keith’s work, whistles low under his breath.</p><p>“Wow, you’re getting really fast at this. Good job!”</p><p>“Did you mean all that shit that you said to her?” Keith nearly interrupts him in his rush to get the words out, like he’d been holding his breath just waiting for his chance. It gives Lance pause, has him thinking back on the conversation and wondering what Keith could be so hung up on. Did he say something wrong and offend him somehow? “Obviously you didn’t mean it <em> about me </em>, but that’s really how you feel about familiars as a whole?”</p><p>Lance’s eyes widen in realization. He hopes Keith hasn’t come over here to challenge him again on what being a familiar does and doesn’t mean. He has some pretty warped ideas about it and it’s almost painful to hear about them, let alone fight him on whether they’re true or not.</p><p>“Keith, what’s it gonna take to make you believe that I’m not lying about this? I mean what I say, I’m-”</p><p>“Delphini? That’s the cat?” This time, Keith doesn’t even wait for him to finish speaking, instead cutting him off mid-sentence. Lance furrows his eyebrows together, lost on the significance of the question.</p><p>“Delphinium.” He corrects lightly, still eyeing Keith in confusion. Keith’s face does something funny in response to the name, scowling and scoffing in the same instance, and Lance can’t help but chuckle at the display. “She’s named after a plant, a toxic one.”</p><p>“Of course she fucking is.” Keith growls out, rolling his eyes. But then he grows quiet, concentrated, like he’s deciding how to venture into the topic he really wants to talk about. Lance steps back to lean against the trunk of the apple tree, reaching overhead to pluck one off the branch and taking a hearty bite out of it, all the while waiting for Keith to continue. “<em> She’s </em> the reason I don’t come to your family dinners.”</p><p>“What? Why?” Lance pauses eating, looks at Keith in confusion. He knows that Del can be a handful, she’s got an ego that’s unmatched by any of the other twenty familiars that share their home, so this doesn’t come as a surprise necessarily. It’s just, well, he hadn’t considered that there might be a reason for Keith not wanting to participate beyond just not wanting to. He hardly seemed like the type of creature that could be bullied out of doing something, after all. If Del gave him trouble on the very first night, Lance would have expected him to fight back and make a scene, maybe even one that involved bloodshed.</p><p>Keith had hardly been committed to the cause that first night, after all.</p><p>“She’s smart. She saw through our lie right away, said there was no way someone with your magic skill-level could possibly summon a phoenix. I denied it, obviously, but she wouldn’t <em> believe </em> me. She just kept bothering me about it. She resorted to mocking me, stealing the food off my plate, turning the other familiars against me one by one.” Keith draws a heavy breath then, like he needs to amp himself up to finish his confession. “By the end of it, none of them were willing to talk to me, in case my failure as a familiar was <em> contagious </em>. She’d convinced them all that I was defective, some sort-of mistake, and they’d best steer clear of me in case I ruined them too.” </p><p>“Keith.” Lance wants desperately to reach out to comfort him, but Keith’s never reacted well to that in the past. So instead he just curls his hands into fists at his sides, and thinks about the conversation he’s going to have with Rachel after this. “Why didn’t you say something?”</p><p>“What would I have said? Nothing she said was untrue.” Keith scoffs, but he doesn’t seem like he’s trying to be difficult on purpose. There’s no fight in him, for once, just a dim sort-of indifference. Lance has never seen him look so… complacent. “It’s the worst insult there is for our kind. To be so useless to our master that even the magic it took to summon us was a waste. Our entire reason for being is to be a mage’s partner, so what’s the fucking good of us when we can’t do <em> that </em>right?”</p><p>“She <em> was </em> wrong. The magic it took to summon you wasn’t a waste and you’re not useless.” Lance insists, and this time he doesn’t fight the urge to reach out and settle a hand on Keith’s upper back, above the base of his wings. Keith shifts away from the touch like he always does, visibly uncomfortable, but this time it’s worse because Lance can see him reverting into his thoughts. Keith doesn’t believe him, not at all, after a lifetime of being told the opposite. And Lance is either going to have to let him walk away thinking like that, or he’s gonna have to come up with a better argument. “I mean, hell, look at what you did today alone! You dug twelve whole rows!”</p><p>“Twelve whole rows.” Keith repeats in a deadpan.</p><p>“Twelve whole rows!” Lance says yet again, with far more enthusiasm than is probably called for. Keith is looking at him like he’s lost his mind, and maybe he has, but if nothing else he thinks he might see a hint of amusement in that dark gaze of his. “I can’t even tell you how many hundreds of pounds of potatoes that could end up being. You just made an invaluable contribution to our family’s winter food stock, sir. Who else could have done that much that quickly?”</p><p>“I wasn’t made for planting potatoes, Lance.” Keith says, but he doesn’t sound dismal and self-loathing as much as he sounds exasperated, like Lance’s antics are tiring him. Good.</p><p>“Ever hear of free will? You weren’t<em> made</em> <em>for</em> anything.” Lance corrects gently. “No one is.”</p><p>“Familiars are.”</p><p>“They’re not.”</p><p>“They are. We only exist if a mage wills it so, because our existence is narrowed to serving that mage.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, even if that <em> were </em> true, which it’s not, you’re still wrong.”</p><p>“<em> How </em>?” Keith narrows his eyes at him, all too ready to call him out on his bullshit. </p><p>“You’re better than any familiar on this farm at serving mages. How many mages have they served? One? When you’ve served what? At least five, probably more. If anything, being able to serve a wide variety of mages makes you more skilled and talented than the average familiar. Anyone who looks down on you for having more experience is just jealous or too close-minded to see what they’re missing. They’ve been kept on a short leash their entire life, tied to one person, but you? You’re free.”</p><p>“Free.” Keith repeats, staring off across the open field. Lance follows his gaze, but realizes early on that Keith isn’t looking at anything in particular, just considering the concept in a new light. </p><p>“Yeah, just as soon as we get our situations dealt with, you’re free to do whatever you want. With or without some stupid mage tying you down. You’re whole exactly as you are.”</p><p>“Freedom isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Keith says then, quietly, like he can’t believe he’s admitting it aloud and has yet to decide if he’ll end up regretting it. Lance watches him closely, his hand sliding lower, fingertips grazing through surprisingly soft downy feathers between his wings. Keith flinches, but he doesn’t pull away, so Lance does it again, silently marveling at the texture. “There’s value in your family, your farm. At least you have a place you belong. I’ll never have that again. A thing like me doesn’t get to have a home.”</p><p>“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t say<em> that </em>.” Lance corrects carefully, uncertain if his offer will be received well or terribly. He’s also not entirely sure what’s compelling him to make the offer. He hasn’t really thought it through at all, only knows that it feels right. “I’d like to eventually have my bed back, but worst case scenario I can buy another one.”</p><p>It’s not outright enough that it has to be addressed, but he knows Keith is more than capable of reading between the lines and understanding what he’s trying to suggest.</p><p>He watches as the realization slowly dawns across Keith’s features, eyebrows raising and jaw unhinging, big dark eyes opening wide in surprise. As soon as he realizes how expressive he’d been, Keith is quick to cover it back up with his signature scowl.</p><p>“You’re joking.” Keith says finally, turning away from Lance and shrugging his hand off. Lance doesn’t miss the way his skin seems to burn in the seconds before his touch leaves though. He’s angry, upset that Lance would mess around about something this serious to him, but he’s got it all wrong. Lance may not have thought this through, but he knows what he’s offering and he means it.</p><p>“Why would I joke about this?” Lance asks, charging after him. Keith is hardly sprinting, but even just briskly walking Lance has to jog to keep up with him. As soon as he reaches him though, he grabs hold of his shoulder and forces him to turn around and look at him, wincing slightly as the touch burns his entire palm and sends pain shooting through his arm. But, it does get Keith to look at him, so he’ll consider it a win even as he’s spreading cream on the injury later. “You don’t have to be my familiar, I know I’m not an impressive mage, definitely not one worthy of a phoenix. But if you want a place to call home, we’ve got room on the farm, we’ve got work for you and enough food to feed another mouth. I mean it, Keith.”</p><p>“I don’t-”</p><p>“It’s fine. You don’t have to give me a yes or no answer. It’s just an offer I’m extending, no expiry date, so let me know if you change your mind at any point and I’ll get right on buying that extra bed.” Lance hurries to clarify, recognizing that panicked flighty look in Keith’s eyes. He doesn’t know what to say or do, and Lance doesn’t want to see what his reaction is when he’s forced into answering before he’s ready to. There’s no rush anyway, and Lance hardly has high hopes, so it’s fine if he takes a while. It’s fine.</p><p>It just… makes Lance’s heart pound a little faster in his chest, makes his palms sweaty with anticipation, makes him realize just how badly he wants Keith to stay. He’d been trying very hard not to get attached, but admittedly he’d failed at that. So in a last-ditch attempt at sparing himself any heartache, he’d been instead making a valiant effort not to acknowledge his attachment. Clearly, he’s failed at that too.</p><p>Keith doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t run away or start throwing punches either, he just looks down at his feet and grows quiet. Lance decides he can work with that, can easily fill the silence and move them past this hurdle as long as Keith is willing to let him.</p><p>“Hey? Let’s wrap things up here, I’m thinking I might take you up on that bonfire idea.”</p><p>--</p><p>For the record, the bonfire was a<em> great </em> idea. </p><p>They brought their own food and Lance even a few bottles of beer.</p><p>Lance has never seen Keith so in his element as he is when he’s setting a pile of branches aflame with his bare hands. He’s a vision, dark hair framing his face and flying in the wind, flames lapping at his skin and crawling up his arms, wings more alight with color than he’s ever seen them and giving the sunset a run for its money. Nevermind the smile he’s wearing, so bright and bold. It’s like he’s never known sadness at all, cheeks full and round and dimples with deep divots in either one of them. </p><p>It’s all Lance can do to remind himself not to stand in the path of the smoke and risk inhaling too much.</p><p>“Can you make it bigger than that?” Lance asks, mostly just to indulge him. He nods toward the massive flame of fire dancing in front of him just in case it wasn’t clear, but he’s sure that Keith understood what he was asking anyway, was probably waiting on him to ask it this entire time. </p><p>“Is that a serious question? I could burn an entire forest down if I wanted to,<em> Lance </em>.” Keith calls back to him over the snapping and popping of the fire. He steps out from behind it and grins devilishly at Lance, and then within seconds the bonfire is burning a good ten feet higher, tall enough that he’s sure it must be visible above the trees from the next town over. Lance is standing a good fifteen feet away and he still feels the heat of it on his skin.</p><p>“Look at you, show-off.” Lance snickers, tipping his bottle back to take a sip. Keith wanders over to him then, the fire calming back down to a manageable size seemingly at his request. He settles beside Lance on the log they’ve been using as a seat, wings tucked in close around himself. Lance grins over at him, happy to see him look so relaxed. “This is nice, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Truth be told, it surprises Lance a little bit to have Keith agree with him, especially so openly and without needing to be coaxed into it. He must do a double-take, because Keith starts laughing at him then, playfully elbowing him in the side. “Hey, can I ask you something? Something about the… offer… you extended earlier?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course.” Lance agrees immediately, perhaps with a little bit too much enthusiasm if Keith’s following silence is anything to go off of. Lance looks over at him, can’t help but notice the anxiety playing out across his face. He’s surprisingly easy to read right now, in the light of the flickering flame in front of them. Maybe he thinks that Lance can’t see his face as well and is making less of an effort to school his features into indifference. “Keith?”</p><p>“Just, be honest, alright? Promise me that?”</p><p>“I promise.” Lance agrees, nodding solemnly. </p><p>“Do you <em> want </em> me to stay or are you offering because you think <em> I </em>want to?”</p><p>“I don’t know, both?” Lance answers eventually, after spending far too long debating what answer Keith might want to hear. He doesn’t want to lie, but he also doesn’t want to come on too strong again and scare Keith off. He immediately regrets it though, when Keith’s face quickly reverts into his usual frown, like Lance has given the wrong answer. </p><p>Immediately, Lance finds himself babbling, nerves amounting at the thought of this being the make or break moment for Keith’s decision. “Of course I want you to stay, Keith. I like having you around, you’re a great refresher from being smothered by family all the time. You keep things interesting. You keep me on my feet. You’re a good companion, as a person, completely unrelated to you being a familiar. You’re like having a live-in best friend, you know? It’s fun.”</p><p>Keith gives him a long, hard look with an impassive expression. So long, in fact, that Lance is just starting to wonder if he’s only managed to damn himself further, when suddenly Keith starts to snicker under his breath and behind the cover of his wing. Lance is almost offended that he’s missing the accompanying smile, his jaw dropping.</p><p>“Best friend, huh?” Keith repeats mockingly, folding his wing back and letting Lance watch as the corners of his lips tick upwards into a smaller, more personable smile. Lance groans aloud.</p><p>“You gonna make fun of me for that? I was spilling my heart out to you, jerk.”</p><p>--</p><p>After that night, in the following days, Keith starts to open up about his past. It starts off as little tidbits, seemingly unimportant things that come to mind when something reminds him of them, but the fact he’s sharing at all means that Lance pays close attention to every single word. He wants to know more about Keith, about where he came from, what happened to land him where he was when Lance found him. He doesn’t believe it was Keith’s fault. He can’t believe it. </p><p>Sure, there’s a possibility that Keith’s a different person than he was then, that he’s grown and changed to be who he is today. But Lance honestly can’t picture Keith ever hurting anyone of his own free will.</p><p>The first tidbit comes the day after the bonfire, when Lance is swimming happily in the lake and Keith is standing watch by the edge of the water, apparently disgusted by the mere thought someone would willingly submerge themselves in water. Lance thinks it’s the most amusing thing ever, naturally.</p><p>“You’re a fucking phoenix, Keith, you can’t honestly tell me you’re afraid of water.”</p><p>“I’m not afraid, I just hate it! And you’re only proving my point. Yes, I’m a phoenix, a <em> fire </em>bird, why wouldn’t I hate the water?! It’s my opposite, my biggest weakness, everything that I’m not!”</p><p>“Please tell me you at least bathe in water and not dust or something like the chickens do. Please.”</p><p>“Fuck off, of course I bathe! I just don’t let my feathers get wet, so I have to use a cloth.”</p><p>“You’re telling me you exclusively sponge-bathe yourself? Disgusting.”</p><p>“You’re disgusting!”</p><p>“I’m gonna teach you how to swim someday!”</p><p>“Like fuck you are! You wouldn’t be the first to try and I promise you, the last didn’t succeed!”</p><p>“Who tried to teach you how to swim? A past master? I thought they were all… you know, shitty.”</p><p>“He <em> was </em> shitty. He only wanted me to swim so I could infiltrate a castle through it’s moat. I could’ve easily flown overhead, but he didn’t want me to get detected before I’d had a chance to kill the King. I swear, he nearly fucking drowned me in his efforts to “teach” me.”</p><p>“You know what? The more you tell me about your past masters, the more the prison starts to look like an acceptable place to call home instead.”</p><p>“No kidding.”</p><p>After that, Keith makes more and more offhanded callbacks to his past. Things like foods he used to eat, places he’s been, even famous people he’s met. Lance is equally as impressed and surprised every time he reveals something new. There’s no denying that Keith has lived a full, eventful, and exciting life… in the same way there’s no denying all the misery and suffering he’s known.</p><p>The next time it happens, they’re in the stables brushing the horses. Lance had been expecting Keith to stand on the sidelines and simply watch him work, but he’d been quick to volunteer. So they were standing in two separate stalls next to each other, idly chatting as they brushed through the knots and tangles in each mare’s mane.</p><p>“You’re weirdly good with horses, considering all the other animals seem to be afraid of you.”</p><p>“I’ve spent a lot of time around them.”</p><p>“When? And why?”</p><p>“They were pretty common in the war, after all.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Between battles when my master was celebrating with all his soldiers in the barracks, I used to head out to the stables instead. Those men were nasty sober, you didn’t want to see them drunk after a victory in battle. I swear there were times they killed their own roughhousing.”</p><p>“You’re kidding. You were a soldier?”</p><p>“A weapon.”</p><p>“... Keith.”</p><p>“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. Of course I haven’t forgotten it, I don’t think being forced to take innocent lives is the sort-of thing you can forget, but I’ve come to terms with it. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t my choice. I was doing what I had to do.”</p><p>“Well, if you can take down armies, why didn’t you take down your master right then and there? I mean, I’m assuming you eventually killed him, but why not before he made you do anything so terrible?”</p><p>“It was more complicated than that. He was keeping me safe by putting me into danger.”</p><p>“I don’t really understand.”</p><p>“It was him or my version of the hellhounds, Lance.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>“If I was lost on the battlefield during the war, blending in with hundreds of thousands in the middle of all the bloodshed, then I was safe. It was far less likely that my past would be able to find me when it came looking for me. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make. And it worked, for a long while, longer than it ever worked before… but then the war ended.”</p><p>After that conversation, Lance spends a long time considering it. What Keith’s personal hellhounds must be to make being used as a weapon to kill innocents a preferable outcome. It’s difficult to imagine that anything would be worse than that, but he has to believe it must be true, because he doesn’t want to believe that Keith was simply being selfish and trying to protect his own skin at any cost. Because that’s one hell of a cost to pay.</p><p>When Lance finally gets the full story, the answers to the questions he’d been asking from the very moment they’d met… it happens because Lance is opening up about his past. After a long day working as a team with the rest of the family to harvest a field full of strawberries, Keith and him are curled up in the living room reading. Keith is the first one to break the silence.</p><p>“Can I ask you a personal question?”</p><p>“I don’t see why not.”</p><p>“Where’s your father? How come he doesn’t live with you anymore when your entire family does? Did he pass? If so, how come you didn’t resort to black magic to save<em> him </em>?”</p><p>“That’s more than one question, Keith.” Lance points out with a chuckle, but in reality he’s just stalling for time and debating how, if at all, he wants to answer. It’s a tricky topic, it always has been, even with his family members that know the full story. “He’s not with us anymore because we don’t want him to be. If he was dying, I imagine I’d resort to black magic to speed up the fucking process.”</p><p>There’s a moment of silence where Keith seems to be allowing time for the words to truly sink in, so he can consider them fully. Lance pretends to go back to reading his book, but he knows he can’t now that his head is full of unwanted thoughts of his father. All he does is stare at the text on the pages and wait for the inevitable follow-up questions.</p><p>Only, they don’t come. </p><p>“I understand.” Keith says eventually, completely serious, like he has any idea what he’s even claiming to understand. Lance can’t help but laugh, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling and tossing his book aside, eyes stinging with the need to shed tears. Tears that his sorry excuse for a father has never deserved and yet they always come, whether he wants them to or not. Lance didn’t even have it the hardest, he was the youngest, his father was gone by the time he could truly understand what was wrong with the way he treated his mother and oldest siblings.</p><p>“How could you? I didn’t even give you the full story.”</p><p>“I’ve been around enough bad men to know what they look like, to know the kind of damage they leave in their wake. Anyone who could make someone as kindhearted, wholesome, and <em> good </em>as you consider murder… well, they probably deserve it.” Keith tells him, his voice quieter than he’s ever allowed it to be, gentle like Lance is a fragile thing in need of support. Maybe he is. Keith’s uncharacteristic sweetness sets him off more than the memories alone had, and then he’s sniffling into his sleeve, wondering how pathetic he must look to a phoenix, a phoenix that’s been through so much worse.</p><p>But Keith doesn’t mock him, or even judge him. He just climbs out of his seat and crosses the room, settling on the floor beside the couch. Lance looks at him through teary eyelashes, confused, but he doesn’t find any answers. Keith looks just as confused, like he’s never once attempted to comfort a person and doesn’t know how to. In the end, he opens his arms, the first willing invitation to touch that he’s ever given. And Lance knows touch isn’t his thing, doesn’t want to force him through something he doesn’t truly want, but he can’t help it. He needs this.</p><p>He slides off the couch and into Keith’s lap, curling up small against his chest. He startles slightly when heavy pressure closes in all around him, like a hug but more, and soon realizes that it’s Keith’s wings caging him in and sheltering him close. He laughs and reaches up between them to swipe the tears from his cheeks, trying desperately to compose himself so he can enjoy the moment for what it is. Who knows if this’ll ever happen again. “I’m sorry, Lance.”</p><p>As Lance calms down, he busies himself by idly tracing his fingers around one of the longer feathers at the base of Keith’s wing, right down to the blunt edge where it’d been clipped off. He wonders if it hurt, or if Keith didn’t even realize what was happening until he tried to fly again and found that he couldn’t. He doesn’t want to know. Both options are equally as devastating and it hurts to think about. </p><p>“Can I ask you a personal question in return? Just one, I swear.” Lance asks suddenly, lifting his head. At some point they’d readjusted to Keith could lean back against the couch, and at the sound of Lance’s voice he lifts his head from the cushion to state back. “What made someone as genuine, considerate, and good as <em> you </em>consider murder?”</p><p>“Hm.” Keith exhales heavily, clearly apprehensive about breaching such a topic right now, or perhaps at all. Lance understands the hesitation, he does, he isn’t sure that he’d be able to provide specifics either in Keith’s shoes. Still, he can’t help but wonder.</p><p>“Before you think I’m doubting you or whatever, I’m not saying it was ever undeserved. I mean it when I say I believe you’re good, I know it, but that’s exactly why I’m so curious. Surely, out of all your masters, at least one of them must have been good? Were they all that terrible?”</p><p>“Lance.” Keith voices his name almost like a warning, like he’s questioning if Lance is really ready and willing to hear the answer to the question he’s asking. Lance tries to hold a brave face, braver than he really feels. The truth scares him, but that’s why he has to hear it, from Keith’s mouth and no one else’s.</p><p>“I’ve been trying to wait on you to tell me, I really have, but I need to know.” Lance prompts, staring openly at him, practically holding his breath as he waits. Keith sits up fully then, wings still folded protectively around Lance and showing no sign of retreating. “<em> Please </em>, Keith.”</p><p>“I didn’t kill my previous masters.” Keith responds in kind, without a beat of hesitation. Lance is left reeling in confusion, after worrying for the worst, that Keith really was the monster he was made out to be by the facility and he’d only recently decided to change. Lance stares at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He looks almost pained, like admitting he isn’t a murderer is somehow worse than implying he was all this time.</p><p>“What?” Lance prompts finally, impatience unbearable. “Like, not even one?”</p><p>“Not even one.”</p><p>“But they<em> are </em> all dead, right? By brutal bloody murder?”</p><p>“<em> Yes </em>.” Keith growls out, teeth grit together and eyes tightly closed like he has to force it out of himself, like it pains him greatly to admit. Lance instantly regrets his carelessness, realizes there’s a lot more to this than he could have ever guessed. “You remember what I said about having my own hellhounds?” </p><p>“Obviously.”</p><p>“His name is Zarkon.” Keith says softly, like he’s afraid to say it too loud, like he’ll manifest the moment his name is called. Lance’s eyes widen in recognition in an instant. Everyone, at some point in their life, has heard of Zarkon. He’s infamous for being one of the most powerful and most evil mages. His list of crimes is long and devastating, the amount of innocent lives lost at his hands are countless, no one will ever truly know the body count. But, the good news, is that he’s dead. Long dead, actually.</p><p>“Zarkon as in-”</p><p>“Yes, <em> that </em> Zarkon.”</p><p>“Dude, he’s dead. They got him years ago, after he murdered that entire town on the East Mountains, that was before I was even born. Maybe you missed the news while you were locked up in prison, but-”</p><p>“He’s not dead, Lance.” Keith cuts him off firmly, sounding inexplicably exhausted all of the sudden, like the topic has drained the life right out of him. Lance slowly shuts his jaw, forgetting whatever he’d been in the middle of saying, too distracted by the pain in Keith’s expression. “I’ve made the mistake of assuming him dead before. It cost me my wings.”</p><p>To have a name and a face to associate with the man who took Keith’s ability of flight from him is a muddled mixture of relieving and horrifying. Lance isn’t sure if he’s better for it, to have a place to direct all of that anger and hatred toward. </p><p>“What does he want with you?”</p><p>“The same thing any bad man wants. Power.” Keith mutters, hatred so heavy in his voice that Lance swears he feels his skin heating him against him. He seems to reel it in though, almost like he’s mindful of where Lance is settled in his lap. “He’s creating an army and he wants me to be his second in command. He wants to be the most powerful mage alive, take over the world, then monopolize magic so only he can perform it. He knows that there’s no familiar more powerful than a phoenix, and if he harnesses me as a tool with his level of magic… who knows what he’d be capable of. Burning entire cities, entire countries.”</p><p>“And he’s been after you since-”</p><p>“My very first master, the man who summoned me, was a good man. The best. His name was Thace, and you won’t recognize it, because he wasn’t famous or anything. He was just a lumberjack in a small town in the middle of nowhere and he near shit his pants when he summoned a phoenix. He didn’t treat me any differently for it though, and he didn’t look at himself any differently knowing the kind of power he had at his disposal. He taught me everything I know. He was my entire world. All I ever wanted was to be good for him, to help him in any way I could, to make his life easier.” Keith pauses, draws a shaky breath, like he truly can’t breathe around the words. Lance leans back to give him space, almost debates clambering off his lap altogether, but Keith responds by wrapping his wings back around him and pulling him back in close in a rush. This time, Keith wraps his arms around him too, hugging him so close that Lance feels completely swathed in warmth.</p><p>“Keith.” Lance breathes, tucking his face into the curve of the familiar’s neck.</p><p>“He worked for Zarkon. Sold lumber to his mill, long before Zarkon’s name was known for all the things he’s known for now. How could we have known what he was capable of then? Sometimes I wonder if Thace would’ve lived a long and full life, if his wife and his children would have, if I just hadn’t gone with him to that fucking mill. But once Zarkon saw me, saw my potential, he’d made up his mind that he’d stop at nothing to make it <em> his </em>.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Keith, I didn’t know. I didn’t-”</p><p>“T-The first time, when he killed Thace and his family, it took me years to get away from him. I was young, inexperienced, and I didn’t know the full extent of what he wanted to do. All I knew is what he’d taken from me and without Thace, what was the use of fighting to get away at all? I had no purpose, even if I did manage to get away, what was waiting for me out there?” Keith’s voice breaks then and Lance winces where his face is still tucked in close to his jaw. He’s physically trembling beneath him and Lance doesn’t now what to do, he runs his hands up his sides clumsily, trying to ground him and bring him back to the moment. “But then as the years passed in Zarkon’s hold, I watched him get worse. Unhinged. Dangerous. Careless. The things he did, Lance, you don’t even want to know.<em> I </em> don’t want you to know. Ever. It’s better that you don’t.”</p><p>“Keith, it’s okay, you’re not there anymore. You’re here, with me.” Lance tells him, pulling back to look him in the eyes. He almost regrets it when he sees Keith’s expression, sees the panicked and helpless look there, like he’s right back in that terrible place he’d come from. Lance shushes him gently, leaning in to rest their foreheads together on a whim. It seems to work though, Keith’s eyes blinking a few times before seemingly focusing on his. “Hey, there you are.”</p><p>It takes a moment, but eventually Keith continues, apparently set on telling Lance the entire story now that he’s started to open up. And as painful as it is to hear, Lance knows that he needs to if he wants to have any hope in hell of helping Keith. He needs to know it all.</p><p>“As soon as I realized what he had planned for me, I found a way out. I didn’t know where to go. I checked myself into the facility, more or less. I thought I’d be safe there forever.”</p><p>“... But people kept adopting you.”</p><p>“At first, they were nice people, people like you who just wanted a familiar of their own. I got my hopes up every single time, thinking I’d be able to stay, that Zarkon wouldn’t find me. But he always did. He always found me and he always killed them, every last one of my masters, in front of me. He wanted me to know there was nowhere else for me, that he was my only option.” He pauses, draws a shuddering breath, then continues. “And then terrible people started taking me in, people that wanted me as a soldier, as a weapon. But they weren’t Zarkon, and they were strong, so I thought if I was good for them… they’d protect me from him. So I fought. I practiced, I tried hard to solidify our bond, to make our conjoined magic something strong enough that I might someday hope to defeat my demons. But he always found me.”</p><p>“Keith, I-”</p><p>“He always finds me, Lance!” Keith interrupts him, anger flaring, and Lance squirms away from the corresponding heat that shoots through him. Immediate regret flashes across Keith’s face and then he’s closing his eyes, concentrating hard to control himself. Lance is amazed as Keith’s temperature immediately starts to cool to something more tolerable, just on the edge of too-warm, enough to make Lance’s skin feel sticky with sweat but not much else. </p><p>When Keith speaks again, his eyes are still closed, and his words are a whisper. “Last time he clipped my wings and I thought I’d <em> never </em> get away, but I did, so I vowed to never leave the facility again once I made it back there. I couldn’t risk him getting his way. I <em> couldn’t </em> . But then you came along and you wouldn’t take no for an answer, even after I <em> burned </em> you, and I didn’t know what else to <em> do </em>.”</p><p>“Hey, it’s okay, we’re gonna figure something out.” </p><p>“I can’t go back to him.” Keith says, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t<em> watch him kill you </em> . I swear, it’ll break me. It’ll be like Thace all over again, and I can’t <em> do it </em>.”</p><p>“You won’t have to.” Lance insists, reaching up to cup his face between his hands. Keith’s eyes flutter open and focus on him, looking downright miserable, and Lance can hardly stand it. Already he’s trying to brainstorm ways that he can help. He doesn’t know many powerful mages that might be able to assist them with this, let alone willing, but one in particular immediately comes to mind. </p><p>He’s definitely not going to go out without giving it his best effort. He’ll fight alongside Keith until his final moments if he has to.</p><p>At some point, it grows uncomfortable being tangled up on the floor. Lance voices as much and Keith quickly unwraps his wings, giving him ample opportunity to move away. Only, Lance didn’t really want to leave, just wanted to help his aching legs where they were falling into pins and needles.</p><p>He stands and looks down at Keith, extends a hand to him and helps him up.</p><p>“Hey, you wanna join me on the couch for a while? Until you feel a little better?”</p><p>“No.” Keith answers without a shred of hesitation. The blow is brutal enough that Lance has to grip onto the couch to keep his legs from collapsing beneath him. He veers backward, chuckling awkwardly, prepared to make an excuse for the offer being something other than what it sounded like. Why did he think Keith would say yes to being invited to cuddle up together on the couch. This one instance doesn’t mean that he’s always going to be okay with it in the future. He was emotionally compromised and desperate, he didn’t really want to- “Couch is too small. My nest would be better.”</p><p>“Your… <em> nest </em>?” Surely Lance didn’t hear him right. Since that first morning he’d walked in and woke Keith up, Keith has made a point to never let Lance anywhere fucking near the room. He wakes up as early as Lance all on his own now and Lance suspects it’s only so he doesn’t have to worry about his personal space being invaded. Lance had come to terms with just never seeing his bed, or his room, again.</p><p>“If you want to.” Keith says quickly like those few words might change Lance’s reaction.</p><p>“Oh, I definitely want to. I’d<em> love </em> to use my bed again. I wonder if it’s as comfortable as I remember it being, it’s been so long. I might even wake up tomorrow without back pain.” Lance agrees, starting toward his room. Keith follows closely behind and then skirts ahead of him, ducking through the door moments before Lance does. So Lance walks a little slower, gives him time to do whatever he needs to do, and joins him a minute later.</p><p>Keith is standing beside the nest when he walks in, stripped down to just his sleep pants.</p><p>From the moment Lance walks in and looks at the mound of clothes on his bed, Keith immediately starts cleaning it up and reconstructing it under Lance’s gaze. Like he hadn’t been doing that just a moment before, as Lance suspects he was. He’s adorably nervous about it, like Lance has any idea what a good nest <em> does </em> or <em> doesn’t </em> look like. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just honored that Keith wants to spend the night with him.</p><p>“So I just, climb in?” Lance asks, curiously stepping closer and examining the nest. He finds himself making mental notes of all the familiar pieces of clothing tucked in the most crucial spaces on the inside of the nest where Keith sleeps, mostly his favorite shirts if he’s being honest. Though, for everything he recognizes, there seems to be something he <em> doesn’t </em> . He’s fairly certain a good deal of the nesting materials <em> aren’t </em> things from his wardrobe now, which is even more confusing… until he starts to recognize whose clothes they actually are.</p><p>A shirt of Luis’, a robe from Rachel, a coat from Veronica, a pair of jeans that are stained enough to belong to Marco. He thinks he might even spot some tiny shirts in his niece and nephew’s sizes, though he doesn’t bother trying to pull them out and inspect, not wanting to mess with all of Keith’s hard work.</p><p>He does, however, decide to mess with Keith’s pride.</p><p>“These aren’t mine.” Lance comments playfully, holding up the sheets in question. He recognizes one of them from his mother’s linen closet, but the other one is a total mystery to him, silky and black. He turns to Keith to see his response, only to find a pair of massive wings instead of a blushing face. Keith has his back turned to him as he climbs into the nest. Lance rolls his eyes, figuring that it’s not a coincidence Keith didn’t hear him. He must be<em> embarrassed </em>.</p><p>The moment he’s in the nest, Keith burrows down deep and hides his face in the side of it, very plainly not ready to have the conversation they’d been having. He’s not hiding his ears though, so Lance can’t help but notice where they’re tinted to the tip with a pink flush. “Have you been stealing from my family? Seriously, Keith, and you want me to believe that you don’t like them? Clearly you must.”</p><p>“Can we go to sleep?”</p><p>“Fine, fine. But only because I’m tired, rest assured we’ll be revisiting this topic someday.” Lance relents, precariously lifting a leg in and then eventually tripping into the nest despite himself in his efforts not to disturb anything. He falls half on top of Keith and aside from the answering grumble of annoyance, Keith doesn’t really make any effort to move away, so neither does Lance. He settles in the crook of Keith’s arm, resting his head on his chest, and lets his heavy eyelids fall closed.</p><p>Hm… Keith might be onto something here, it’s definitely comfortable. </p><p>It’s not long before Keith’s shifting to try and get comfortable. Even here, his wings seem too big for the bed, especially as they shift and twitch in an effort to find the right position to sleep in. They end up draped over Lance like a blanket and he graciously accepts the offering, cuddling in close beneath one and wrapping it around himself. The heat they give off is undoubtedly comfortable and Lance isn’t sure he’ll be able to fall asleep without it after this.</p><p>Just before Lance slips under, he hears a quiet sound pick up beside him, coming from Keith’s direction. A stuttering, chirping little purr of-sorts, unlike anything Lance has ever heard before. He thinks he might be imagining it, but he’s too close to sleep to open his eyes and check, so instead he just lets sleep pull him under and dismisses it as a dream.</p><p>--</p><p>The next morning, Lance is predictably the first to wake up. He finds himself smothered in warmth and soft feathers, the weight of Keith’s wing almost too much to push off of himself. He manages to squirm free of his hold though, just enough to gulp in fresh cool air. Beside him, Keith stirs, but he doesn’t wake. </p><p>Lance lies there for a while at the very edge of the nest, debating his plans for the day.</p><p>He knows where he has to go, but it’s a three day journey, and that seems risky. What if the hellhounds were to come for him while on the road, out in the open with no shelter? But if Zarkon were to come for them now, Lance knows there’s no way he’d be able to fight him off. He needs Allura’s help and the sooner he gets it, the safer they’ll be in the long run. The trip is just a risk he’ll have to take.</p><p>He’ll tell his mother that he’s going to visit, to deliver her a shipment of herbs. It’s not the most unusual thing, he usually does make a point to visit at least once a year, but this year his trip had been pushed back due to his mother’s illness. Now that she’s well, there’s nothing holding him back. It shouldn’t arise suspicions that he wants to go. He hopes not, anyway.</p><p>Eventually, Lance grows antsy and eager to go tell his mother what his plans are. He tries again to untangle himself fully from Keith and climb over the edge of the nest, but it’s easier said than done when Keith seems to be making every effort to stop him, even in his sleep.</p><p>The very moment his foot hits the floor outside of the nest, Keith bolts awake behind him.</p><p>Lance stumbles onto two feet, turning back to watch as Keith blinks back into consciousness. He looks around the room for a moment like he isn’t sure what the loss actually was that seemed to shake him from sleep. But then his gaze lands on Lance and goes inexplicably soft, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Lance has no choice but to linger a little longer and offer him an answering smile.</p><p>After a couple minutes, Keith seems to collect himself enough to hold a conversation.</p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“<em> We’re </em> going to find someone who can help. I was gonna let you sleep in a little later while I went to tell my family we were leaving for a while, but you woke up anyway.”</p><p>“Leaving for a while? How long?”</p><p>“It’s a three day journey there and then I imagine we’ll stay until everything is resolved.”</p><p>“By foot?”</p><p>“No, we’ll take a wagon with us.”</p><p>“Seems risky.”</p><p>“It is, but we don’t have any other options. We need Allura’s help.” Lance explains gently, stepping closer and reaching into the nest to give Keith a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. Keith makes no move to flinch away or shrug him away, apparently past the point of avoiding his touch. Instead, he leans into it, like he’s chasing Lance’s lingering warmth where he’d been in the bed. Still, he can’t deny that Keith doesn’t seem enthused about the plan. “Trust me, you’ll like her. I’ve known her my entire life, we were practicing magic together before we could walk, I swear. She’s my closest and oldest friend, if anyone can help us, it’s her.”</p><p>“She’s your closest friend and she doesn’t live around here?”</p><p>“Not anymore. She moved off into the mountains to live with her eccentric uncle after she lost her parents in a terrible accident. Her uncle is a bit of a hermit, but you’ll like him too once you get to know him.” Lance explains, deciding to throw caution to the wind and climb back into the nest despite himself. Keith welcomes him happily, moving aside to give him more room, until they’re both sitting face to face with their knees brushing together. “They’ll help us, but you have to trust me. We’re gonna have to tell them everything, right from the beginning, so they know what we’re dealing with.”</p><p>“Alright.” Keith agrees, nodding his head slowly, gaining confidence. “I trust you.”</p><p>--</p><p>The sun is setting and filtering in beams of light through the trees when the rickety old house comes into view on the horizon. It’s a massive old building, built by Coran’s hands alone, and it has the distinct energy of a haunted abandoned house, though Lance knows that neither are the case. He smiles to himself at the sight of it, thinks about all the good memories he’s made here over the years. He wishes the circumstances were better, but he really is glad to be back. </p><p>Beside him, Keith is dozing happily, face buried into his shoulder and wings draped behind the seat they’re settled on. Lance nudges him and he grumbles in response, closing his jaw where it’d been hanging slack, drooling onto the sleeve of Lance’s jacket. </p><p>“Wake up, you oaf, we’re here.” Lance chuckles, nudging him again. This time, Keith cracks a single eye open, glaring angrily ahead. He seems to brighten immediately when he sees a structure rather than endless trees. He sits up slowly, at full attention as he stares toward the looming mansion of sorts. It almost gives the impression of a castle, standing so tall and proud in the mountains.</p><p>“Are you sure this is the place?” Keith asks beside him, plainly skeptical.</p><p>“I told you he was eccentric, didn’t I?” Lance reminds him, reaching out to settle an arm around his shoulders. Keith leans into him, that lazy and content clicking sound starting up again in the back of his throat, a playful trilling that reminds Lance of the songbirds his mother used to feed outside their windows. Lance tightens his grip on the reins, turns back to watch the path ahead. Absentmindedly, he starts to muse aloud to himself, just a few of the fleeting questions that have crossed his mind during the long journey here. “I wonder if Allura’s changed any since I last saw her. It’s been over a year this time, longer than we’ve ever gone without seeing each other. Do I look alright? I don’t smell or anything?”</p><p>Keith grows tense against his side and Lance isn’t sure what he said to set him off, especially when things had seemed so easy between them the whole trip so far. Eventually, Keith replies, though he still sounds unlike himself. He’s... hesitant, withdrawn, calculated like he’s putting a lot of thought into his choice of words.</p><p>“If she’s as close of a friend as you claim she is, what does it matter?”</p><p>“Is it weird to want to look good for your friends?” Lance laughs, but then quickly amends his response by telling the truth instead. Something about Keith’s stare, bushy eyebrows low over his eyes, tells Lance that he’s not looking to joke right now. “Alright, alright. We were friends yes, but there was more to it than that. She was my first girlfriend. We broke up because she was moving away and we weren’t sure how often we’d be able to see each other. If things had gone a little differently, who knows, we might still be together.”</p><p>“Hm.” Keith hums, considering, and Lance doesn’t know what to make of that<em> either </em>. </p><p>He’s even more at a loss when Keith wordlessly squirms out from beneath his arm, shifting to sit on the opposite end of the bench, like Lance has somehow offended him with his honesty. </p><p>“<em> Now </em>, will you answer my question? How do I smell?” Lance laughs awkwardly, trying not to let it show how out of his element he is. Keith does turn to look at him at that, sniffing the air for emphasis, and then slumps back against the seat unceremoniously.</p><p>“The same as always. <em> Like dirt. </em>” Keith deadpans, in a way that’s hardly playful and sounds far more similar to his casual cruelty in the beginning of their friendship. Lance turns to look at him and plans on asking for answers, but Keith doesn’t exactly look approachable about the topic. He’s scowling deeply, his wings burning a deep scarlet, and Lance somehow gets the feeling that he’s not really in the mood to talk about it. So they won’t.</p><p>Besides, they’re just about to the end of the path, and Lance should start thinking about how he’s going to explain everything now rather than later. It’s a bit of a doozy after all, and he’s already worried about what kind of reactions are waiting on him when he comes out with the truth. Allura has always been his friend, but she’s always told it to him straight, and he doubts she’s going to react well to the news that he sold his soul away to the literal entity of evil. </p><p>Lance pulls on the reins and veers the horses to a stop just outside the front steps of Coran’s house, gently shushing them. He glances over at Keith to gauge his reaction, but Keith is turned away from him, staring dismally up at the peak of the house. Lance slides down from the wagon and goes to check over the horses, offering them each a carrot he’d stowed away in his bag.</p><p>He’s only just finished wiping the slime of saliva off his palm and turned to go collect his things from the back of the wagon when Allura’s voice calls out through the air. She comes running down the stairs a moment later and Lance fumbles to open his arms in time to catch her. </p><p>“Lance!” Allura squeals happily, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging him close. As soon as he’s certain she’s supporting herself with her legs wrapped around his waist, he moves his arms to hug her back just as tightly, until they’re both short of breath from the pressure on their lungs and the incessant giggling between them.</p><p>“Allura!” Lance grins up at her, absolutely overjoyed. “Look at you, your hair is short!”</p><p>“My hair <em> is </em>short!” Allura agrees, mirroring his enthusiasm. She untangles one hand from his back to reach up and tuck her hair behind her ear, smile refusing to fade all the while. When she speaks again, it’s quieter, and her cheeks are darkened with a pink blush. “Do you like it?”</p><p>“I love it, it suits you.” Lance doesn’t hesitate in the slightest to answer. It’s the truth, he never would have guessed that she’d look so good with shoulder-length hair when he was so used to her long hair that draped down her entire back. Her hair is still the same stark white he remembers it being though, and the pink healing rune tattoos are still exactly where he remembers them high on her cheeks, and her eyes still shine just the same way. If anything, she seems livelier than the last time he was here, happier.</p><p>“Do you have stubble?” She asks suddenly, both hands landing on either side of his face and groping at it, stretching his cheeks out like an old grandmother. He groans. “Oh, Lance, you’re all grown up!”</p><p>“Hey, hands off the goods.” He jokes, swatting her hands away with one of his, the other still gripping her hip to support her. Slowly, he lowers her back to the ground, deciding that it’d be easier to continue this conversation that way. Once she’s back on her feet, she leans back to look him over head-to-toe, as if surveying if he’s grown at all. “For the record, I was definitely capable of growing facial hair the last time we saw each other.”</p><p>“Keep telling yourself that.” Allura teases, sticking her tongue out at him. He’s gonna make a jab back at her, playful of course, but he doesn’t get the chance before she’s lurching forward and wrapping him up in another hug. This time, it’s not quite as suffocating and dire, it’s gentler. She buries her face into the crook of his neck and he wraps his arms around her loosely, holding her there. He rests his forehead in her hair, eyes falling closed to savour the moment. </p><p>“It’s good to see you again, it really is. I’ve really missed you.” Lance breathes, giving her a comforting pat on the back, relishing the moment before inevitably it falls apart.</p><p>“I bet you didn’t miss me half as much as I’ve missed you.” Allura challenges, leaning back to look him in the eye, and Lance makes a move to protest but she speaks up again before he can. “Is that why you’re here? Because you missed me? Somehow I feel like there’s more to it than that, this is an awfully long trip to make just for me, no matter how wonderful I am.”</p><p>Lance winces slightly, ducks his head to look at his feet between them. He isn’t really looking forward to this part, but it is why they came after all. It’s best to get it out of the way fast.</p><p>“I need your help.” Lance admits. “Coran’s and Shiro’s too, if they’ll give it.”</p><p>“What have you gotten yourself into this time?” Allura mutters under her breath, shaking her head in a way that’s equal parts exasperated and fond. Lance decides to show her rather than tell her, and simply turns her to look toward the wagon. Keith is still settled on the seat, looking tense, like he was wondering how long it’d take to address him. Now that Allura is looking at him, really looking, it’s only a matter of seconds before she recognizes the wings. “A phoenix?!”</p><p>“Yeah.” Lance laughs, gesturing up at Keith. “Introduce yourself, why don’t you?”</p><p>Only Keith makes no move to do that. He’s still just staring at them owlishly, like he’s never seen anyone quite like Allura in his life, and Lance realizes early on that he’s not gonna be able to shake himself out of it. So he fills the silence before it can get awkward, loudly coughing into his fist. “This is Keith.”</p><p>“Keith.” Allura repeats, trying the name out. “Did<em> you </em> name him?”</p><p>“He’s not mine.” Lance says, even though it feels wrong after insisting that he is for so long, trying to prove it to his entire family. But they need to tell Allura the truth if she’s going to be able to help them, and the truth of the matter is Keith isn’t his familiar. Lance would hardly be opposed to it if he wanted to be, but he’s leaving it up to Keith, it’s not his decision to make.</p><p>Though, he doesn’t think he imagines it when a flash of hurt crosses Keith’s features in reaction.</p><p>“I’ve never even seen one in real life before, I’ve only heard stories.” Allura says, mostly to herself, as she continues trying to process what she’s looking at. She steps closer to the wagon and peers up at him, eyes wide with wonder. It almost looks like she’s tempted to reach out and touch, but thankfully she doesn’t try it. Just because Keith has grown to trust Lance enough to allow him close, doesn’t mean he’s going to be quite so accommodating for a stranger.</p><p>Not to mention he still looks angry, if anything even worse than he’d been before. He’s glaring daggers at Allura, anything but welcoming, and if she was anyone other than herself she’d probably be deterred by it. Allura isn’t one to be deterred by much of anything when she’s put her mind to something though, that’s part of why Lance loves her so much. “If he’s not yours, then what’s he doing here? With you?”</p><p>“It’s a long story, I think I’d better tell it when Coran’s around to hear it.” Lance suggests, stepping closer to her and gripping her hand. It takes her a moment to tear her eyes off of Keith, but eventually she manages, looking back at Lance with determination in her eyes.</p><p>“Let’s go find him, then. Just as soon as we get your horses all set up in the stable. He’s probably in his lab anyway, that’s where he spends most of his time.” Allura explains, always quick to devise a course of action and call the shots. That’s why Lance knew she was the right person to come to for this, she always seemed to know what to do, or at least how to pretend she did. </p><p>She moves to lead the way to the stables, only to immediately turn back around. She offers a wide smile up at Keith, extending a hand to him. “I don’t think I introduced myself properly. I’m Allura, in case you didn’t know, and it’s nice to meet you. Any friend of Lance’s is a friend of mine.”</p><p>Keith hops down from the wagon so suddenly that it surprises even Lance and has him flinching, the sudden thud of Keith’s heavy boots hitting the ground startling them both. And then he’s stepping closer to Allura, as if he intends to shake her hand properly, only to stop short and simply loom over her. His eyes dart to Lance, like he’s searching for some manner of reaction, but Lance doesn’t know what he’s looking for and he doesn’t know how to give it.</p><p>In the end, Keith simply scoffs.</p><p>“For the record, you don’t smell any better than Lance.”</p><p>“Uh? Thank-you?” Allura tries, completely thrown by the comment. With that, Keith stalks off toward the trees, to do who knows what, and Lance is left to do damage control for him yet again. He’s not sure when they backtracked on all of their progress, but it’s really starting to bother him. He hopes he didn’t hurt or offend Keith somehow. “Does he have a problem with scents?”</p><p>“I’ll explain later.” Lance promises, but when Allura doesn’t look sold with that level of explanation, he decides to take it a little bit further. He hopes Keith isn’t still listening to their exchange now that he’s disappeared from sight. He turns to Allura, offers a sympathetic smile. “Keith has a pretty clouded past, he’s been through some shit. He’s not really… good with people.”</p><p>“Oh.” Allura breathes, nodding her head in understanding.</p><p>With that, they head to the stables and set up the horses for the night. It takes them a while, but by the time they’re finished and they return to the wagon, Keith is back. He doesn’t look like he’s in any better of a mood, but he does begrudgingly follow alongside them as they head into the house in search of Coran. He’s quiet, even quieter than usual, and Lance wonders if this is how it’ll always be when he meets new people. Some form of defense mechanism, maybe.</p><p>They find Shiro in the sitting room tending to the fire and he accompanies them up to Shiro’s lab, where he happily drops everything he’s doing to gather Lance up in his arms like his long-lost son. Lance has to stand there while he’s awkwardly smothered to death in front of Keith and Allura, all while Coran coos over him like a child. Really, he’s grown up quite a lot since the days when Coran used to set up expeditions and fossil excavations in their front yard for him. </p><p>And then, once the greeting process is finished, they all settle in around the dining room table for Lance to explain the entirety of his situation. Keith sits on one side of him and Allura on the other, and though he’s sure it’s neither one’s intention, he finds that both of them are really crowding into his space and it’s not doing much to make the process any easier on them. Hell, he can feel the heat rolling off of Keith in waves thanks to whatever miserable mood he’s in, and that paired with his already pre-existing nervous sweats probably aren’t doing wonders for him in that aforementioned smell department.</p><p>It’s long-winded and clumsy, but he says his piece and they listen to every word. At one point, when he’s stuttering through the explanation of what he did for his mother and why, Allura reaches over to take his hand and squeeze it, a comforting gesture. Only for Keith to do, or attempt to do, the exact same thing and end up burning his hand. Then the story has to be paused while Allura uses her magic to heal the burn, and all the while Keith sits slumped in his seat like a pet scolded for being too eager.</p><p>After he’s finally finished explaining everything from the start, he sits back in his seat and nurses his newly-injured hand against his chest, looking around the room at the stunned faces of his friends.</p><p>“So, uh, what do you think?”</p><p>“I think you’re an idiot.” Allura says, without an ounce of hesitation, right off the bat. Lance winces slightly, more than he had when Keith burned him, and shrinks in on himself pathetically. Beside him, Keith snorts out a laugh, as if to agree. Nevermind that half of the mess they find themselves in belongs to Keith, and not Lance at all.</p><p>“Any other volunteers?” Lance asks the room, hopeful that someone will have more constructive criticism than that, at least. A moment passes before Shiro gets to his feet, his hands landing heavy on the table. Behind him, his wings are just as expressive, flapping wide and then settling in close. Lance wonders if Keith’s wings were once that expressive before he learned to tamp it down for his own safety.</p><p>“I think we have our work cut out for us if we want to have a fighting chance.” Shiro announces, with his usual air of seriousness. Lance isn’t sure if it’s just his personality or if it has something to do with being an eagle, but Lance can’t remember seeing him smile once in all the years he’s known the familiar. “We should start preparing and practicing now. We don’t have a minute to waste.”</p><p>“Shiro, calm down.” Coran interjects with a sigh, twirling the ends of his mustache in thought. Finally, he seems to reach a conclusion, and Lance gets his hopes up that it’s going to be something productive to the conversation. That’s always your first mistake when dealing with Coran. “My boy, you’ve really gone in over your head this time.”</p><p>“<em> I know </em>.”</p><p>“We’ll rest for tonight.” Coran says then, taking a long sip of his coffee. “They’ve had a long journey, they need food in their stomachs and sleep before we attempt to do much of anything else.”</p><p>“So tonight would be the perfect night for the hounds to come, is what you’re saying.” Shiro argues, his arms still folded firm across his chest and his jaw set. Coran glances over at him, but otherwise chooses not to acknowledge that comment. He rises to his feet, offers a sympathetic smile to Lance.</p><p>“We have a spare room in the attic, I assume you’re okay with sharing for the duration of your stay?”</p><p>“If not, I have a pull-out couch in the corner of my room that Lance could sleep on.” Allura interrupts quickly, glancing over at Lance with a knowing look. Lance is doubly confused by that, the spark of mischief in her eyes, like she’s insinuating something more than what she’s offering. It’s been years, years of him pining after her since she moved away, and she’s never once showed any sign of wanting to rekindle things between them. He’d all but given up.</p><p>“Sharing is fine.” Keith’s voice cuts through the silence of the room suddenly, as sharp as ever, and Lance almost a half a mind to laugh at the gruffness of it. It’s the first thing he’s said since his last snappy comment about Allura’s smell, he hadn’t even offered to introduce himself to Coran or Shiro, had instead gone bitterly mute. Even during the burning fiasco, he’d been silent and sulking through it all.</p><p>But this? This is where he draws the line and has to say something?</p><p>“Ah, so you<em> can </em>speak.” Coran jokes, grinning at the phoenix. Keith scowls right back. </p><p>“Keith and I will share.” Lance speaks up, before it can devolve into some manner of back and forth fight between the two of them. He knows what Keith is like when he gets in these moods, and if he can find an excuse to turn it into a competition or an argument he’ll take it. Maybe it’s for the best that they share a room so Lance can keep an eye on him, and maybe talk to him about whatever it is that’s got him so riled up today.</p><p>“Splendid, I’ll go make the beds.” Coran gets to his feet with a flourish, snatching his mug from the table as he goes. He nods toward Shiro then, grinning ear-to-ear. “Shiro, if you would, could you make them something to eat? I’d volunteer, but according to Allura I’m the worst chef in the continent, and I somehow doubt they’d appreciate my culinary title at work.”</p><p>“I’m on it.” Shiro gets to his feet in a hurry, like Coran in the kitchen is the worst outcome imaginable. As Coran turns to leave, Lance realizes that he’s not sure what he’s meant to do in the meantime.</p><p>“What should we do?”</p><p>“<em> We </em>,” Allura cuts in before Coran can suggest a thing, “should go for a walk. I’d love to show you how my greenhouses are coming along and get your opinion on them. You know a lot more about that sort-of thing than I do and I always look forward to your reviews when you come visit. If it’s not too much trouble, of course?”</p><p>“No, that’s no trouble at all, I’d love to see them.” Lance agrees happily, glad to have something to do to pass the time rather than sitting around waiting. Beside him, Keith makes a sound that’s the opposite of a happy trill, more like a low and vibrating growl. Lance looks back at him in confusion. Keith doesn’t meet his gaze, instead glaring down at the tabletop like it’s personally offended him. “Are you coming with us or not? I know how boring you find this aspect of gardening.”</p><p>“Actually, I was thinking Keith could head with Shiro to the kitchens and get to know him better. They have a lot more in common than he’d probably think, it’d be good for them.” Allura suggests brightly, not pushy or demanding in the slightest, just a lighthearted suggestion. That growling series of clipping clicks starts up again in the back of Keith’s throat, louder this time, loud enough that Allura surely hears it.</p><p>Lance winces even before Keith speaks up, knowing exactly what’s coming.</p><p>“What? Just because we’re both familiars? Both birds? Rather ignorant of you to assume we have anything in common based on those factors alone. You don’t know anything about me.”</p><p>“Actually, I know that you lost your original master… as did Shiro.” Allura snaps right back, and now she certainly seems intent on rising to the challenge of whatever fight Keith is trying to initiate. Lance stands up and looks between them, ready to intervene if he has to. Keith is just glaring at her though, eyes narrowed critically, lips pursed in thought. “Adam was his first, but after his death, Coran inherited Shiro and he’s lived with us ever since. I think you might bond over it, if you’re willing to open up.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I’m not.” Keith hisses out at her, seething. “I didn’t come her to fucking bond over my trauma, I came to resolve it so I can forget any of it ever happened. I don’t want to talk feelings, I don’t want to make friends, I just want to get this over with and get out of here.”</p><p>“So what would you prefer? To accompany us on a romantic walk through the gardens? I was trying to spare you the awkwardness of that, but if that’s what you’d rather do, then by all means.”</p><p>“Hey, wait, who said anything about a romantic walk?” Lance interrupts belatedly, mind buzzing with the realization that she really had meant something more by the suggestion earlier. He’s quick to compose himself though, wrenching his gaze away from Allura’s bashful blush and back to Keith. He’s red too, but he doesn’t look embarrassed as much as furious, so Lance grabs him by the hand and ignores the initial heat. Slowly but surely, Keith forces himself to cool back down, not wanting to hurt him again. “Keith, can I talk to you? Alone, in the other room?”</p><p>“Fine.” Keith sighs, hanging his head as Lance drags him by the wrist into the next room over. </p><p>It’s a bathroom and Keith immediately settles on the edge of the wooden tub. He doesn’t make eye contact as Lance stands in front of him, giving him plenty of time to speak up if he wanted to. Eventually, he’s forced to be the first to say something all on his own.</p><p>“What’s up with you?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Clearly not.” Lance argues gently, settling on the edge of the tub next to him. He places a hand on Keith’s thigh, rubbing soothingly across the length of it, from hip to knee, until finally Keith heaves a heavy defeated sigh and gives in.</p><p>“Just don’t like it here. Don’t like them.” Keith pauses, fidgeting in his spot, toying with the feathers of his wings to distract himself. Anything to avoid looking Lance in the eye and seeing the disappointment displayed across his face. Finally, Keith continues. “Don’t like <em> her. </em>”</p><p>“Am I allowed to know... <em> why </em>?” Lance tries, hoping for the best. But Keith stiffens up beside him, feathers fluffing in that defensive gesture Lance has come to know how to recognize for what it is. </p><p>“<em> No </em>.” Keith answers firmly, leaving no room for argument really. Not that Lance planned on arguing, but he can’t help but notice Keith’s general unwillingness to even budge on the topic. It’s been awhile since they’ve hit a roadblock like this, where Lance pressed for more and Keith refused to give it. It’s only natural though, there’s a lot more to Keith than Lance understands even yet. And there’s no shame in him setting boundaries, boundaries are healthy, Lance just wishes he knew what was going on so he could try to help him. As it is, he’ll have to respect what Keith’s willing to give in terms of context.</p><p>“Well, that’s fine, I’m not going to try and force you to befriend Shiro or Allura, or anyone for that matter.”</p><p>“You’re <em> not </em>?” Keith asks, seemingly surprised by this.</p><p>“No, of course not.” Lance insists, completely genuine. Beside him, Keith slowly starts to uncurl from the hunched-over and small position he’d reverted into. He straightens up, dark eyes flickering in Lance’s direction to survey him, as if debating whether it’d be safe to open up anymore than that. Lance gives him an encouraging smile. “I won’t try to tell you what to do, I’m not your keeper, and it’s up to you who you let into your life and who you don’t. But, you can’t deny that we need their help. There’s no debating that, Keith, we need them and they’re willing to be there for us. I won’t ask much of you, but can you<em> try </em>to be a little bit nicer to them? Just the bare minimum of agreeability to make this easier on all of us? They’re on our side, after all. Don’t waste all your energy fighting your friends when your enemies are closing in, yeah?”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“I knew you would.” Lance grins, bumping their knees together. Keith responds in kind, playfully knocking their feet together where they hang over the edge of the tub. And suddenly, everything feels fine between them again, like a weight has been lifted. “So, if that’s all settled, can I go on that walk now? Are you good here?”</p><p>Keith freezes where he’d been in the middle of kicking Lance, gazed glued to the floor between them.</p><p>“The<em> romantic </em> one?” Keith asks, and there’s no denying how mocking his tone is. Huh. Weird.</p><p>“Supposedly.” Lance shrugs. “Being completely honest, I don’t know what she wants any more than you do. I’ve wanted her for so long, made so many moves, been so open about my feelings… and never once has she taken me up on it. I don’t know, the thought of her saying yes now just feels like pity, no matter how she does it. If she wanted me, you’d think she would have realized that by now. I don’t want to be her second, or even last, choice. That’s not fair to me <em> or </em> her.”</p><p>“So, you <em> don’t </em>want her?” Keith asks under his breath, his voice so incredibly quiet that Lance has to strain his hearing to make out what he’s saying. It doesn’t help that Keith’s gone back to not looking at him at all, making it all the more difficult to read the mood behind his words. It’s strange that Keith is asking questions at all, it doesn’t seem like something that would matter much to him.</p><p>“It’s weird, but I don’t think so?” Lance explains, speaking his thoughts aloud for the first time. As much as he was happy to see her again, his heart didn’t feel like it was going to beat straight out of his chest like it always had before. He’s happy to see her, but that’s it. He’s not desperate to never have to part from her again like he’s been every single visit since she moved away. It’s like he’s finally come to terms with the fact that that part of his life is in the past. “I love her, but not like that. Not anymore.”</p><p>“Oh.” It’s strange, but Lance doesn’t think he’s imagining the relief in Keith’s exhale. Why it mattered to him at all, let alone as much as it seemed to, is a mystery that’s going to bother Lance for long after he leaves this room. He doesn’t dare to even hope that it might actually be what it seems like.</p><p>What reason would Keith have for being jealous anyway? Familiars don’t feel like humans do, at least not <em> for </em> their humans. It’s taboo to say the least, practically unheard of, to have a romantic relationship with a familiar. Not that Lance wants that… he’s just… not sure what he wants. He’s confused. And sitting alone in a small space like this with Keith staring at him so earnestly isn’t helping.</p><p>“So? Are we good?” Lance asks, just to be sure. He’s never seen an expression on Keith’s face quite like the one he’s wearing now, his eyes completely glued to Lance, equal parts concentrated and confused, like he’s having trouble working something out in his mind. Lance quirks an eyebrow at him and finally, Keith looks away, coughing awkwardly into his fist.</p><p>“We’re good.” Keith confirms. Lance grins happily, getting to his feet and starting for the door, he just about makes it there when Keith suddenly grabs his wrist to keep him there. Lance looks back at him and finds those amethyst eyes focused on him again, wide and invested, and they’re more than a little bit overwhelming in their intensity. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. For all of that. And the burn. I didn’t mean to. I hope you’ll forgive me for it.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it.” Lance dismisses quickly, smiling at him. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah. Later.” Keith agrees, smiling so wide that Lance isn’t sure where else to look, wings glowing so blindingly bright that Lance has to avert his eyes or risk a headache. At the very least, it seems that Lance said the right things to make him feel better and get out of the bad mood he was stuck in. </p><p>With that, Lance steps out of the room and goes in search of Allura. She hasn’t gone far, he finds her leaning against the back door and waiting on him. He approaches and she meets him halfway, already looking rearing to go and excited about it. </p><p>“Are we good to go now?” Allura asks, linking her arm through his.</p><p>“Yeah, I think so.” Lance smiles, a genuine one, still thinking about how happy he was to walk away from that exchange and know that both he and Keith were feeling better. He hopes that that becomes a regular occurrence between the two of them, as they get better and better about talking out their issues rather than fighting about it.</p><p>A long walk through the greenhouses filled with reminiscing later, they find themselves settled by the small fish pond in Coran’s backyard, overlooking the valley below. Allura has been animatedly chattering on about her newest spells she’s been casting for a while now, but Lance tuned it out at some point, his thoughts drifting back to Keith. He wonders how he’s making out back in the house, if he ended up keeping to himself or if he decided to try and get to know Shiro on his own terms.</p><p>“I can’t believe you’d trade your soul away!” Allura shouts suddenly, like she’d only just remembered she wanted to confront him about it privately. She gives him a playful punch in the arm too to really drive her point home, to emphasize what a stupid decision it was. “What were you <em> thinking </em>?”</p><p>“I wasn’t, really.” Lance admits, reaching behind himself to scratch at the nape of his neck. As much as he recognizes it as a stupid, reckless decision and is willing to admit that, he also knows he’d do it all over again if he was given a do-over. It wasn’t like he had many options, he stands by that he chose the best one out of the few he had. Allura doesn’t seem to share that train of thought when he shares it with her, her skeptical stare boring into his eyes. “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same. If you could’ve saved your parents, you would have, no matter the sacrifice. I know you would.”</p><p>“Yes, but that’s different.” Allura sighs. “Death is just a part of life, Lance, especially something as natural as an illness. You have to come to terms with it sooner or later, you can’t cheat it every time it comes knocking. You’re only putting off the inevitable.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t regret any of it.” Lance insists again, leaning back on his hands behind himself and staring up at the stars overhead. “I wouldn’t have met Keith if I hadn’t gone to extremes.”</p><p>“You’re really fond of him, huh?” Allura asks then, sounding equal parts amazed and confused by the fact, and Lance has to chuckle because he understands. From the outside, he knows it’d be hard to understand what he sees in Keith, what it is that makes their dynamic work as well as it does. It’s just, well, it does. They fit together surprisingly well. Almost as if Lance really had been the one to summon him. He wishes that he was, that it was that simple for the two of them.</p><p>“I’m sorry about all the shit he said. He means well. I know he does. It’s just he doesn’t know how to navigate people very well, considering how many bad experiences he’s had with them over the years. It’s hard for him to trust again. I mean, can you really blame him?”</p><p>“He seems to trust you.” Allura points out, leaning over the edge of the water and peering in at the koi fish swimming around. She’s still as gorgeous as Lance remembers, hair falling in her face, eyes wide and blue… but the emotion isn’t there, welling up and threatening to burst from his chest. He doesn’t feel overwhelmed by the fact, it just is what it is.</p><p>“I hope he does.” Lance answers, his lips ticking upward. “What about you? How have <em> you </em>been?”</p><p>“I won’t lie, it’s lonely up here. Coran may be able to get by with the hermit lifestyle, but I find myself wishing for something more. I’d like to eventually open up my own apothecary, now that I’m getting better with herbs and healing magic. There aren’t exactly many customers for it up here in the mountains, though.” Allura muses aloud and Lance pays close attention now, to the wistful look in her eyes, the slight frown dragging her face down. She seemed restless the last time he was here, but now it’s worse, he can tell that already.  “I’ve thought about your offer a lot.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Lance swallows hard around the lump in his throat. He’d made the offer in a desperate bid to convince her to give him a try. Told her that she could come back with him and share his cottage, that they could pick up where they left off all those years ago when they called things off. It was the boldest confession he’d ever given her, the most honest he’d been about his feelings and his desires. Now, he doesn’t regret it necessarily, it just feels<em> different </em>. “There’s always a place for you at our table, ‘Lura, no matter what’s happening between the two of us. You’re family. Everyone in my family considers you one of their own. If that’s what you want, I’m sure everyone would be happy to have you.”</p><p>“Would <em> you </em>?” Allura asks, her voice small, unsure for one of the first times in all the years Lance has known her. He’s never seen her look so torn up, so uncertain about herself, and that’s how he knows that this isn’t the love confession he’d been waiting on his whole life. She wants freedom, she doesn’t want him.</p><p>But… that realization doesn’t hurt like he’d thought it would all this time.  If anything, it feels like his own brand of freedom.</p><p>“Hm?” He hums, trying to dodge this confrontation before it has a chance to happen. She seems intent on making sure it does though, as she turns to look at him directly.</p><p>“Come on, you know what I’m asking.” She laughs, but it’s humorless, too nervous to show even a hint of genuine amusement. She reaches out, places a hand on his knee, and then leans closer to him. Where before it would have his heart racing in his chest to have her so close, now he feels nothing. “Do you still feel the same? About me?”</p><p>“Why are you asking this <em> now </em>?” Lance asks, because it’s easier than answering.</p><p>“I don’t know, I’ve had a lot of time to think on it.” She shrugs her shoulders, glances down and then looks back up at him through her lashes. She bites her lip and starts to lean closer, like she can better reiterate her point that way, but Lance shifts away before she gets anywhere close to brushing their lips together. She looks hurt and it kills him inside, but he stands his ground. </p><p>“Can I be honest with you?” Lance asks, and she nods her head, though she still looks like she’s struggling to come to terms with his last rejection. He draws a heavy breath, turns away from her, to stare at the fish again. “I think you’ve had<em> too much </em> time to think about it, and nothing else, up here in isolation from the rest of society. I don’t want to be the one you choose because I’m the <em> only </em>option, Allura, that’s not how this works.” </p><p>“You have grown up a lot this last year, haven’t you?” </p><p>“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. It’s just, a lot’s changed since we last saw each other. I stand by what I said, you’re welcome to come back with me to the farm if that’s what you want, I’d love to have you there. As a friend.”</p><p>“It’s okay, Lance, I understand. I didn’t expect you to wait for me forever. And maybe you’re right, maybe my feelings would be different if you weren’t my only friend.” Allura moves away from him again, settling a few feet away on the edge of the pond. She tosses a rock in dismally, still looking vaguely pained, like she isn’t sure what to do now, after being so certain that he’d welcome her advances and return her feelings after all these years. “Did you meet someone else?”</p><p>“I guess you could say that.” Lance decides, though it feels dangerously close to telling the truth, to admitting it to himself. He’s not sure that he’s quite ready for that. After all, he’s spent the last five years harboring feelings for someone who’d never feel the same for him, he’s not exactly excited about starting the whole process over again with someone who’s physically incapable of it.</p><p>“I’m happy you’ve moved on.” Allura says then, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve someone more than anyone I’ve ever met, you know that? I hope they’re a good fit for you.”</p><p>Lance doesn’t miss the emphasis on the gender neutral terms, though he’s fairly certain he never officially came out to her at any point. She’s always known him better than he knows himself, she probably figured his sexuality out before he did. He smiles over at her, feeling indescribably relieved that they’re gonna be able to move past this and put it behind them.</p><p>“It’d be simpler, if it was still you.” Lance admits, shaking his head fondly. “It was so easy between us back then, when we were teenagers. The most straightforward best friends turned lovers story ever.”</p><p>“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Lance.” Allura reassures him, her voice unbelievably kind. “You’re not exactly the type to give up and if they feel the same for you, then you’ll figure it out.”</p><p>“I don’t think they do. I don’t think they ever will.” Lance mumbles, looking down at his lap and wringing his hands together. He bites his lip hard, looks back toward the house behind them and finds himself wondering again where Keith is, what he’s up to. He hopes that he’s alright on his own.</p><p>“You know, Adam and Shiro’s bond was supposedly different from any other mage and familiar in the land, or so Coran tells me. They were partners, yes, but there was something more between them.”</p><p>Lance’s blood runs cold. </p><p>“I don’t know what you mean.”</p><p>“<em> Lance </em>.” </p><p>“I don’t-”</p><p>“How am I supposed to comfort you if I’m not allowed to address it?” Allura sighs heavily, slumping into his side. He lets her though he groans in annoyance, rubbing his hands over his face as she snuggles soundly into his shoulder. He should have known she’d catch onto who he was talking about. She’s infuriatingly intuitive like that, able to read him even when he doesn’t want to be read.</p><p>“He doesn’t even know if he wants to stay yet, I’m not going to complicate it more than it already is.”</p><p>“With what? The truth? If anything, being open with him will make it simpler.” She argues playfully, elbowing him in the side. And it’s ridiculous, that they’re talking about this at all, that Allura is treating it like a completely normal and acceptable crush. People don’t… get crushes on their familiars. Keith may not be his, but it still must be breaking a rule of some type, right? Why is Allura so good to him, so willing to just go along with his nonsense, blindly encourage him to go after his happiness no matter what?</p><p>This is exactly the kind of selfless loyalty that made him love her so much in the first place.</p><p>“How did you know, anyway?” He asks, after a while of sitting there in silence. She shifts against him, somehow managing to make eye contact without ever lifting her head from its comfortable pillow on his shoulder. He’s half-expecting her to use it as a chance to make fun of him for being obvious, to make a playful dig to lighten the mood. But instead her eyes darken with sincerity and her smile grows smaller, more personal. When she speaks, it’s a whisper, and even as close as they are he has to strain to hear.</p><p>“You look at him the same way you used to look at me.”</p><p>“Allura.”</p><p>“It’s fine! I promise, I’ll be fine. How many times did I reject you over the years? I think I can handle one instance of the reverse. Obviously it hurts a little bit, but… I’ll get over it. I want you to be happy and if he’s what you want, of course I’m rooting for you.” She insists, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He relaxes slightly, glad to hear that she isn’t bottling things up. </p><p>“Am I that obvious?” Lance asks, after a moment. Allura snickers next to him but remains damningly quiet on the topic, which is really an answer in itself whether she wants to admit it or not. He groans, feeling anxious from the thought alone. “What if my <em> family </em>knows?”</p><p>“Then they’ll love you regardless.” Allura insists, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “They’ll support you no matter what, you hear me? Those people think the world of you, they’re the most selfless and kindhearted people I’ve met in my entire life. I promise you they won’t think any differently of you for who you love. As long as you’re both consenting and happy, the rest doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“It <em> does </em> matter.”</p><p>“It doesn’t.”</p><p>“I might tell him. If we survive all this.” Lance is almost surprised that he says it aloud, but Allura smiles so blindingly at him in response that he can hardly bring himself to regret it. He grins back at her, feeling his confidence grow the more she encourages him. “There’s no use stressing him out beforehand.”</p><p>“I think he’s going to take it better than you’re expecting, but if you insist on waiting, then who am I to stop you? You know him better than I do, he’s <em> your </em> familiar.” She says, shrugging her shoulders, grinning playfully back at him. His jaw drops and he smacks her arm, not expecting her to address it so plainly.</p><p>“<em> Allura </em>.”</p><p>“And besides, you are going to survive, so you’d better start practicing your confession now.” She points a finger in his face and he goes cross-eyed trying to look at it. And then she moves to grip his jaw tight, holding him in place while she leans in close and brushes her lips against his cheek. She lingers there, smiling wide at him, eyes sparkling with affection. “You came to the right place. We’re going to help you both and when all is said and done, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer and head back with you to the farm. I want to watch you try to fumble your way through a new relationship again.”</p><p>“I wasn’t that bad when we got together, was I?”</p><p>“Oh, you absolutely were.” Allura laughs, tipping her head back to grin up into the moonlight. Lance stares at her for a long moment, his chest feeling inexplicably full. He really did miss her, he doesn’t feel whole without her around. Who else could he possibly talk to about all of this? He’s still staring when she looks back at him and it seems to surprise her, her gaze quickly darting away. “Hey, we should head back inside. The food’s probably ready by now.”</p><p>Lance agrees and they head back for the house together. They don’t make it more than ten steps however, before catching sight of the ground beneath them and pausing. Lance feels his breath catch in his throat as he kneels next to the scorched ground and touches his fingers to it, finding it still warm to the touch, so warm that he has to wrench his hand away seconds later.</p><p>Keith was here.</p><p>Keith <em> saw </em> them. </p><p>“Lance, he’s probably fine.”</p><p>“He only heats up like this when he’s upset.” Lance explains, getting to his feet and starting to jog toward the house. Allura keeps up with him, staying close to his side as they hurry back. Lance has no idea what Keith overheard and how he took it, but it couldn’t have been good for him to leave the grass burnt to a blackened crisp where he was standing. Fuck.</p><p>His worry only grows when they reach the house and walk in on a disaster, chairs and tables upturned in the dining room, pots and dishes shattered and melted all around the kitchen. Allura goes wide-eyed and panicked the moment they walk in on the scene, and Lance is sure he doesn’t look much better.</p><p>“Shiro!” Allura shouts, looking around the house desperately for him. “Coran?! Shiro?! Where are you, are you alright?!”</p><p>They find them eventually, both locked off in the basement. For a terrifying series of minutes, Lance thinks that maybe Zarkon came and went, took Keith with him. It’s not until they’re let into the basement and Coran explains that Lance understands the actual severity of the situation. At which point he goes blank with horror.</p><p>“Keith did this?” Lance breathes out, disbelieving. </p><p>“I’m afraid so.” Coran nods his head, reaching out to place a placating hand on Shiro’s back. The eagle is nursing his wounds, looking none too pleased about having them in the first place. It’s nothing fatal, and nothing too serious, just surface level cuts and gashes, a few burns. Still, Lance feels guilt rise up in his throat like bile. He didn’t think Keith would do something like this.</p><p>And he wouldn’t, not without reason.</p><p>Lance is sure of it, all of the sudden. Though he doesn’t doubt that Keith was the one to do this, he knows he wouldn’t do it without being provoked into it. Keith has more control over himself than that, and the last they’d seen each other he’d been determined to make things work. Something must have changed in the time they were apart, Lance is sure of it. He’s placed all of his faith in Keith and he refuses to believe it was a mistake. Trust is a two way promise.</p><p>“What’d you say to him?” Lance blurts suddenly, standing up from his seat and moving to stand in front of Shiro. Coran looks taken aback by the display and Allura just looks pitying, but Lance ignores them and focuses all of his attention on Shiro. He glares down at the familiar, hands on his hips. He’s determined to get the full story, to understand what set Keith off so badly that he’d react like this.</p><p>“I didn’t say anything to him.” Shiro answers with a snarl, bolting onto his feet so suddenly that he kicks his chair aside, the wood scraping across the floor with an ungodly screech. Lance ignores it, ignores how intimidating Shiro looks standing tall above him, and instead holds his ground. He glares up at Shiro, not willing to back down even knowing how overpowered he is. He wants answers.</p><p>“Like hell you didn’t!” Lance grits out, hands curled into fists at his sides. “He didn’t even react this badly when Rachel’s familiar called him a mistake. Now tell me the truth.”</p><p>“Lance.” Allura says gently, placing a hand on his arm, trying to calm him. It’s a wasted effort though, as Shiro takes to sneering at him in the same instant, condescending and indifferent, and Lance wants nothing more than to punch the expression from his face consequences be damned. He loves Coran and Allura, and Shiro has always been a looming intimidating presence, but Lance has never had a reason to dislike him. Not until now.</p><p>“He’s not even your familiar, what does it matter to you?” Shiro asks then, and Lance sees red so vividly it reminds him of Keith’s wings at his angriest. It’s an unnatural furious red that he can’t see past.</p><p>“He<em> is </em>mine.” Lance growls out, grabbing a handful of Shiro’s shirt and yanking him closer. It seems to startle the smirk off his face and Shiro stumbles into his hold, at which point Lance leans into his space and nearly presses their foreheads together to ensure Shiro looks him in the eye. “And you’re going to tell me exactly what you said to him or so help me, I’ll finish what he started and burn this place to the ground.”</p><p>“Lance!” Allura shouts now, completely taken aback by the uncharacteristic display. Beside him, Coran grabs for his sleeve and tries to pull him away from the familiar, but Shiro waves him off before he can get close to succeeding. Coran and Allura fall silent and Shiro looks down at Lance, meets his gaze without any hesitation or reluctance.</p><p>“I only told him the truth.” </p><p>“Which is <em> what </em>?”</p><p>“That loving a human will end in nothing but disaster.” Shiro breathes, the pain in his voice unmistakable when it causes it to shake more than the anger. “We always outlive them. And they always take us for granted while they have us. And then we’re left living for centuries without them, empty. I was only trying to save him the devastation of getting attached to something he can’t keep.” </p><p>“And<em> that’s </em> what set him off?” Lance furrows his eyebrows together, dropping Shiro’s shirt from his grip and taking a stumbling step backward. He’s struggling to wrap his head around it, why that alone would be enough to anger Keith this way. It’s grim, yes, but it’s nothing he hasn’t said before. Keith believes the same, or at least he used to. Why is it different coming from Shiro?</p><p>“Well, that, and I told him that he’d never in a million years be able to be what Allura is to you, that he’s just not <em> made </em>for it. None of us are.” Shiro looks down at his feet as he says it, a bittersweet smile on his lips, not a trace of regret in his eyes. “But who am I to speak for your relationship? Maybe it’s different than mine, maybe I was wrong. So I told him to go after you guys and see for himself. I’m guessing he didn’t like what he saw and took off.”</p><p>After he finishes speaking, Lance takes a long moment just to think about what he’s been told, about how it must have resonated with Keith. Keith, who apparently has feelings for him that aren’t strictly acceptable by familiar-standards, feelings that sit somewhere eerily close to where Lance’s own are.</p><p>Lance wonders what he saw between him and Allura that made him think they were getting back together, wonders how hurt he must have felt after Lance more or less promised him that wouldn’t be the case, that he was going to turn her down. And he did, but Keith doesn’t know that. All Keith knows is that Lance held her close under the moonlight and talked about his feelings, and maybe he even witnessed the kiss she placed on his cheek.</p><p>No matter the specifics, Keith is out there somewhere, feeling hurt and betrayed and taken for granted.</p><p>Lance can’t have that. He can’t.</p><p>“I’m so sick and tired of people trying to tell him what he is and isn’t made for.” Lance mutters under his breath, running a hand angrily through his hair and no doubt leaving it sticking up in every direction. He turns away, unable to look at Shiro anymore until he’s sure that Keith is safe. “I’m going after him.”</p><p>“You don’t even know where he went.” Allura points out, but she doesn’t sound like she’s trying to deter him as much as make sure he’s not walking into more danger. Lance can tell that she means well, but she doesn’t have a familiar of her own, she doesn’t know what it feels like. To know that Keith is alone out there somewhere, hurting, and Lance is the only one that can help him. It’s a pain unlike any other.</p><p>“The woods, that’s the only place there is to go around here.” Lance turns for the stairs, hugging his coat closer to his frame as he starts to jog up them. Behind him, Allura shouts after him, growing audibly more distressed the further he gets. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t even look back.</p><p>“Lance! There are bears in the woods, get back here!”</p><p>“Allura, let him go, he needs to do this on his own.”</p><p>--</p><p>The forest that surrounds Coran’s house is old, the trees tall and weathered, like towers around Lance’s head as he runs into their cover blindly. He has no idea where Keith could have gone, or how far he could be by now, but he’s determined to find him before he gets too far. What if he doesn’t come back on his own? What if he thinks Lance won’t want him back after what he did to the house? Lance needs to find him and bring him back. He<em> needs </em>to.</p><p>He’s been wandering around for the better part of an hour when he starts to suffer from the sensation of being watched. He wants to believe it’s all in his head, that he’s simply paranoid with what a compromised position he’s in, but he can’t deny the obvious. He hears a branch snap behind him and whirls around, staring toward the low-lying bushes between the trees he’d just passed by. Something tells him he isn’t as alone as he’d thought.</p><p>“Keith? Is that you?” Lance calls into the darkness, holding his breath afterward as he eyes the darkness in the distance. Everything is just blackness when his gaze drifts too far away, and at this point he can’t even remember which way he came from. It’s the worst possible place he could be if something were to come after him. It’s uncanny, like he’s decided to advertise the perfect moment to attack to any creature that feels so inclined. He’s an idiot.</p><p>The bushes he’d been staring at continue to shake and tremble under his gaze and he wants more than anything to turn his back on them and assume it’s the wind, but he can’t shake the feeling of being watched. He continues to stare and slowly backs away, heart hammering away in his chest.</p><p>He’s a good ten feet away when the bushes suddenly flatten, a massive snarling beast of a creature jumping out. Lance gapes at it, knows immediately that it’s not as simple as being pursued by wild wolves. The beast’s eyes shine as red as rubies in its skull, its glistening white teeth on display with dark bloodied saliva dripping between them as it growls. The stench of it alone would be enough to make him feel lightheaded, even without the imagery. </p><p>Up until this point, he’d never seen a hellhound, and he’s wondering now if he would have made the deal at all if he’d known how monstrous the creatures really were. He swallows hard and then whips around on his heel and takes off running through the dark forest, hoping with all his might that he doesn’t trip. “Not you, holy shit, not you at all!” </p><p>Lance sprints through the trees as fast as he can, ignoring the sting of branches whipping at his skin and vines pulling at his feet. The cool night air is brutal as he runs against it, ducking and diving around every shadow he sees ahead, doing his best not to end up off his feet. There’s at least one hound gaining on him, he can hear the heavy panting of its breath, can hear the rhythmic thudding of its massive paws against the ground. He’s sure there’s more than one though, they never come alone.</p><p>His fears are confirmed when he hears a series of howls in the distance, growing closer with every passing second. Dismally, he realizes that they’re closing in on him from all sides, that no matter how fast he runs it’s only a matter of time before they get him surrounded on all sides. Still, he runs while he cans, screaming for Keith all the while.</p><p>He ends up running out of the treeline into a small clearing where he can feel the steady trickle of running water, so he heads blindly toward it.</p><p>It’s in the relatively flat land of the field that he does end up tripping, stumbling over his own feet and soaring forward, cursing himself all the while. He hits the ground in a clumsy sprawl of limbs and immediately tries to get back up, only for a weight on his back to push him right back down into the dirt forcibly. He chokes around a sob and collapses into the muck, wincing as his body starts to ache something terrible as the adrenaline fades away to exhaustion.</p><p>He closes his eyes, prepared for the worse, and the weight on his back suddenly disappears.</p><p>“Stay.” A voice tells him, low and firm, leaving no room for argument. His eyes fly open and he moves to sit up, only for Keith to push him down again with a snarl. “Stay, you idiot! I don’t want to burn you!”</p><p>“Keith. You came.” Lance breathes out, awe heavy in his voice. With that, he listens, and collapses against the ground again. He doesn’t hear anything for a moment, but then the crackle of flame surrounds him on all sides, followed by the skin-crawling heat. He smiles into the crook of his arm, dares to believe they might be out of the worst of it already. </p><p>He doesn’t move again until Keith’s hand grabs his shoulder and hoists him up, pulling him onto his feet despite the way his ankles protest his every movement. At that point, his eyes fly open, and he finds himself staring Keith in the face. Keith whose hair is wild and whose eyes are wide, skin already marred with the slashes of claws and teeth. Lance immediately dives forward and throws his arms around him, that sob he’d choked down before making it’s way up his throat now.</p><p>“You came!”</p><p>“Of course I came, we had a deal.” Keith scoffs, but his wings wrap around Lance all the same, holding him close and supporting him when his tired legs start to grow weary beneath him. As Lance looks at the ground around them, he finds it’s as blackened as the spot Keith had been standing before. </p><p>“Is it over? Did you get them all?”</p><p>“Not even close. That was the first wave of many. There will be more where that came from, endlessly, until the sun rises. Legend has it if you live to see the sunlight, then they won’t come for you again the next night.” Keith explains, slowly untangling them as more howls sound in the distance. His wings spread wide and Lance steps aside to give him room, eyes frantically scanning the edges of the clearing for any movement. The building dread is almost worse than the fight itself had been.</p><p>Keith spots them before he does, running in from the North and the East, a pack of twenty or more. He immediately herds Lance behind him and stands tall, flames flickering to life in his palms as he thrusts them forward. Fire spreads from his hands in blasts, lighting up the ground in even lines, building a protective circle all around them. The added light makes it easier for Lance to see, not that he feels very thankful for it when the hounds grow close enough for him to make them out.</p><p>They’re hideous things, rotten and disfigured, no two exactly alike. </p><p>“The circle won’t hold them for long, eventually they’ll realize they can push through it and live, you need to be ready to dodge them. I can’t take all sides at once.”</p><p>“I understand.” Lance shouts back over the crackle of the flames, steeling his nerves.</p><p>When the hounds come, Keith is ready for them. He takes the better part of them down without any struggle, downing them one after another with blasts of flame from his hands, scorching them to an immobile pile of ashes in one foul sweep. But they seem to multiply, more and more appearing at once, until eventually he’s struggling to keep up with them. Lance can’t help but notice each time they advance a little bit further and grow closer and closer to him, one nearly nipping his leg in his effort to dance around Keith, staying out of his way and close enough for his protection in unison.</p><p>More than once, one of the beasts gets the jump on Keith and launches at him. There’s one instance in particular where Keith risks a glance back at Lance in the middle of the fight and one of the creatures sees the in for what it is. Lance’s eyes go wide with horror at the last possible second, but by then it’s too late to really do anything about what he’s seeing. “Behind you, watch out!”</p><p>The warning doesn’t reach him in time. A hound is upon Keith in second, jaw locked around the feathers of his wing and pulling them free by the mouthful. Keith cries out in agony and Lance can’t even rush to his side to try and help, because he’s too busy running from all the hellhounds that advance on him in Keith’s absence. He bolts around the clearing, tears burning in his eyes, the back of his throat burning with that telltale copper taste, his every limb aching with the need to collapse against the strain he’s been putting them under. He’s never run like this in his life, and it’s still not enough, he can feel the heat of the hound’s breath on the backs of his legs.</p><p>From the corner of his eye, he sees flames roaring high again, and he smiles knowing that Keith is back on his feet again. Still, in his heart he knows it won’t be enough. They’re barely getting by and sunrise is hours off, what are the chances that they’ll be able to hold off until then? Slim.</p><p>He runs past Keith and Keith immediately pounces behind him, wings spread wide and flames at the ready, to take care of whatever hounds are still on his heels. Lance collapses onto his knees the second he’s sure he’s not being actively pursued again, doubles over and gasps into the grass. He feels like he’s going to be sick from all the strain on his lungs, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. </p><p>From his right, he hears Keith holler again and desperately looks in his direction only to find him surrounded. Where before the hounds had been coming in groups of ten to fifteen, now there must be at least thirty of them, all surrounding Keith. A few are looking in Lance’s direction curiously, like they’re already planning what to do the moment Keith is out of the picture.</p><p>Lance stumbles to his feet, desperation growing the longer he watches Keith struggle to beat them off his wings and back, thrashing and growing closer to the ground with every weight that settles on top of him. He won’t be able to get back up if he goes down, Lance knows he won’t.</p><p>Lance looks down at himself and licks his lips, mind racing, and then he closes his eyes to concentrate.</p><p>It’s been half a month since he’s used his magic now, not once since the night he saved his mother and traded his soul away in the first place, and a part of him worries that it won’t come at all when he calls on it. It feels like such a bizarre and faraway concept to him now that it’s been permanently altered. He never had a good relationship with his magic to begin with, but now that it’s something completely different, won’t he have to start again from the beginning? Who’s to say he’ll be able to summon anything more than a spark or two?</p><p>But he has to try. He just has to. He can’t stand by and watch Keith die because of him.</p><p>He feels the magic gathering beneath his skin, feels the way it thrashes around eagerly to be let out. He has no reason to try and control himself now, so he decides to throw caution to the wind and ignore all the warnings all of his magical teachers gave him over the years. This is not the time to <em> hold back </em>.</p><p>As the magic bursts forth from Lance’s hands, the clearing grows eerily quiet.</p><p>So quiet, in fact, that Lance assumes the worst. Assumes that Keith is already gone.</p><p>And as awful as that possibility is, he has to know for certain. So he cracks open his eyes, so tense that his every bone aches, and finds Keith exactly where he’d been before. Except now, the hounds aren’t clawing him apart, but are all sitting on their haunches around him like well-trained dogs.</p><p>Lance squints in confusion. Surely he isn’t seeing this right?</p><p>But Keith looks just as confused as he stares back at him, hands held up in the air in question.</p><p>“What’d you do!?” Keith calls out to him, starting in his direction. Even from here, Lance can tell that his wings are damaged. They’re tattered and their glow has dimmed so much it barely lights up the clearing at all. He’s sure that the splotches of red all over them aren’t their natural proud scarlet either, but rather the deep crimson of Keith’s blood. He feels sick just looking at the state of them.</p><p>“I-I don’t know.” Lance stutters out, the honest truth. He has no idea what he did, or why they stopped.</p><p>Keith continues toward him and Lance decides to meet him halfway, despite his injuries, and despite how wrong it feels to be running in the direction of the hounds. They still don’t seem to be planning on moving anytime soon, so Lance is willing to take his chances if it means helping Keith sooner.</p><p>They meet in the middle of the clearing and Lance wants nothing more than to wrap him up in a hug, but instead he just places a hand on his chest to still him. Slowly, he starts to survey the damage. He’s badly wounded in more than one spot, deep gauges in his hip and his arm that’ll definitely need magical assistance to heal properly. Lance swallows hard.</p><p>“What do you mean you don’t know? You had to have done something. They were going to kill me.”</p><p>“I know.” Lance chokes out, as much as it pains him. “I just tried to use my magic, all I could think about was that I wanted them to stop. I was begging them to. And they<em> listened </em>.”</p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“I don’t<em> know </em>.” </p><p>“Try to make them do something else.” Keith suggests, and Lance figures it’s the most sensible suggestion there is for finding answers. He closes his eyes again and tries to will the hellhounds to leave, to get up and walk right back out of the clearing and into the trees instead. And when he opens his eyes, they’re doing just that. Lance’s jaw drops as he turns to Keith, who looks equally as disturbed.</p><p>“They’re listening to me, Keith.” Lance whispers, completely awed, and frightened in equal parts. He’s never seen anything like this, never heard of anyone being able to control hellhounds. They answered to no one, no one but their master. What does that make Lance? “What does this mean? Am I evil?”</p><p>“You’re not evil.” Keith says without a shred of hesitation, his tone serious. </p><p>“Well, do you have a better explanation for it!?” Lance immediately tries to turn away from him, ready to pace the clearing and truly spiral into a crisis about his apparent newfound powers, but Keith doesn’t let him. He grabs Lance’s shoulder, pulling him back, and forces him to stand in place and meet his gaze. </p><p>Keith looks tired, yes, but he also looks relieved. Relieved like Lance has never seen him before, even more than he’d been earlier when Lance told him he didn’t feel that way about Allura anymore. Lance relaxes into his hold and Keith starts to smile, a breathless laugh stuttering past his lips.</p><p>“As a matter of fact, I do.” Keith says, answering his earlier question. He reaches down and takes one of Lance’s hands in his, holding it up between them. “Do you remember what you said about having a black thumb instead of a green one? How the rest of your family used their magic to grow plants, but you never could because they’d instantly die?”</p><p>“<em> Yeah </em>.”</p><p>“Lance, your magic isn’t in bringing things to life and the living, it’s in killing things and the dead. You’re a necromage. All this time, it wasn’t that your magic wasn’t strong, only that you were trying to force it to be something it <em> wasn’t. </em>” Keith tells him, gently rubbing his hand between both of his. Lance doesn’t know how to feel about that theory, feels himself reverting into his thoughts to truly consider it.</p><p>It makes sense, he supposes. It just seems a bit ironic considering all of this started because of his general avoidance of death. He wanted nothing to do with it, couldn’t stomach the idea of it, the permanency. To think that his magic specializes in it, in rendering things lifeless or controlling the undead, he doesn’t know what to think of that. It seems like a cruel twist of fate, for sure.</p><p>Keith seems to see the pain in his eyes and he leans in closer, resting their foreheads together and demanding Lance’s attention again. Lance slowly blinks up at him, eyes still wet with tears he hadn’t even realized he was so close to shedding.</p><p> “Are you alright?” Keith asks, giving him a quick once-over, hands sliding over his chest and his arms in search of injuries. And Lance let’s him, relaxing into the touch, feeling more tired than he’s ever felt in his entire life. He’d heard once that it was exhausting to use your magic, that it drew its power directly from your energy resources. Lance never experienced it, but apparently he’s never used his magic really either, so maybe that’s what this is.</p><p>“I think so.” Lance answers stiffly. “A little shaken up, but not hurt.”</p><p>“Good.” Keith confirms with a nod. And though he’s so close, and so openly caring, there’s a part of him that’s still notably reserved from the conversation. Lance can’t help but notice it, how he’s holding himself at an emotional arm’s distance, not entirely honest but not lying either. He’s reminded of why when Keith asks his next question, voice low and bitter, disappointment ringing loud. “Where’s <em> Allura </em>? How come she wasn’t protecting you?”</p><p>“I came looking for you.” Lance explains, staring up at him. Suddenly, with the adrenaline from the fight wearing off and the exhaustion setting in, it seems like the most impossible thing in the world to look Keith in the eye and confess his feelings. It somehow feels more daunting than the battle itself. He knows he has to though, knows there’s no other way to bridge the gap Keith has willingly driven between them in an effort to protect himself. Lance swallows hard. “I have something to tell you.”</p><p>“I already know, Lance.” Keith sighs, like it pains him to admit. “I heard you talking to her. You two got back together, but you weren’t going to tell me until after everything calmed down, so it didn’t stress me out. I know. It’s fine. It’s not my place, I have no say in who you dedicate your time to or how you spend it. You’re not even my mage.”</p><p>“But I want to be.” Lance whispers, reaching up to cup a hand around the side of Keith’s face, carefully running his thumb just below a small cut on his cheek. </p><p>“I don’t understand.” Keith says, those thick eyebrows furrowed so deeply together that his eyes are barely visible below them. He looks hopeful, but there’s still an air of doubt surrounding him that Lance is determined to chase away.</p><p>“Keith, I didn’t get back together with Allura. I don’t want Allura.” The moment the words leave his lips, Keith seems to relax just a little bit more, coming out of his shell bit by bit. “You remember when I said you could stay on the farm, if you wanted? But you didn’t have to be mine, because I was a terrible mage, undeserving of a phoenix? This is me asking you to stay. To be mine. I don’t care if I deserve you or not, I <em> want </em>you. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”</p><p>And with that, Lance leans in and presses their lips together. It isn’t much as far as kisses go, a part of him is still scared he’s misconstrued this whole thing and that Keith doesn’t really feel the same about him, but he’s still willing to give this a shot. So he brushes their lips together, fleeting and sweet, before pulling back and blinking his eyes open to check Keith’s reaction.</p><p>Keith looks… relatively shellshocked. Lance has never seen him blush so vividly, his eyes wide as saucers, his mouth still slightly agape even after Lance pulls away from it. It’s the most endearing reaction he could have given, Lance thinks, as he devolves into quiet warm laughter at Keith’s expense.</p><p>That seems to bring him back to the moment.</p><p>“You really mean that?”</p><p>“I do.” Lance nods his head, a smile stretching out across his face so wide it makes his cheeks ache with the force of it. Keith mirrors the expression both in his face and his wings, beaten and bruised as they are, as they light up with color once more. Lance is so relieved he feels tears gather in his eyes again, but he doesn’t let them fall yet. “And I don’t care what Shiro has to say about it either, he doesn’t know a damn thing about what we have and it’s not his place to try and guess.”</p><p>“<em> Lance </em>.”</p><p>“So? What do you say? You wanna be mine?” Lance asks, giving his most hopeful smile. Keith takes one look at him and nods, more enthusiastic than Lance has ever seen him. He gets a hand on Lance’s jaw and hauls him in so quickly that Lance barely has time to let his eyes close again. Only, the kiss doesn’t come, and instead Keith hesitates just as their lips brush to whisper against Lance’s mouth.</p><p>“More than anything.” He whispers, pecking his lips. “I want this more than anything.”</p><p>Finally, Keith presses in close and kisses him like he’s been waiting on. It’s everything he’d hoped it’d be and more, the feeling of Keith crowding in close to him, strong wings wrapping around him as an added layer of shelter against the outside world. Keith kisses much like he does everything else, passionate and hot, demanding in the way he licks into Lance’s mouth and makes a home for himself there. Lance hardly minds though, he welcomes it, welcomes Keith closer until he’s clawing avidly as his frayed shirt in an effort to pull him in even closer.</p><p>They end up leaving the scene of the battlefield, but not by far, only to pick up exactly where they’d left off against a nearby tree. Lance barely even feels the bark where it’s digging into his back, too distracted by the wall of warmth pressed up against his entire front. Actually, come to think of it, Keith is warmer than he probably should be. He’s bordering on feverish actually, hotter than any normal human, hotter than is probably considered-</p><p>“Ow!” Lance whimpers playfully, pulling away from the kiss and pressing his own fingers to his pursed lips instead. He winces, pulling them away, and letting the pout linger. Keith watches on with vague guiltiness written across his face. “You burnt me! I thought that only happened when you’re angry.”</p><p>“Sorry.” Keith admits sheepishly, though he really can’t be that sorry, as he’s already leaning in to kiss Lance’s lips again. And Lance can’t be that bothered, because he makes no move at all to resist it, instead happily moves to meet Keith halfway. “Happens when I’m happy too.<em> Really </em> happy.” </p><p>And well, with a statement as sweet as that one, how is Lance meant to keep from giving in to another kiss, the risks be damned? And then another one after that, and another for good measure, and countless more until Lance has frankly lost count of the amount of times Keith has stolen his breath away with that wickedly skilled tongue of his. He doesn’t <em> mind </em>not knowing.</p><p>Every time Lance has to come up for air, throwing his head back against the tree to pant into the cool night air, Keith descends upon his neck to kiss that just as eagerly. It’s messy and desperate in a way that Lance has never experienced it before, all the urgency building into a fire beneath his skin. He threads his fingers through Keith’s dark hair and holds him there, in the crook of his neck, eyes falling closed as he loses himself to the sensation of sharp teeth dragging agonizingly gentle over his pulse point.</p><p>From there it only devolves further, until it’s two bodies messily pressed up close against the tree, Lance’s legs wrapped tight around Keith’s waist. They rock together at the same pace as their kiss, shielded from the rest of the world by Keith’s wings folded around the both of them. And Lance is so far gone that that’s really all the privacy he needs. He meets each roll of Keith’s hips with an arch of his back, dragging the hard lines of their cocks together, and with each passing thrust he feels himself growing dangerously close to finishing in his pants like a teenager.</p><p>However, Keith seems to be hell-bent on accomplishing just that, so who is Lance to deprive him?</p><p>It’s a good few hours later that they head back to the house, a small army of hellhounds in tow, and Lance’s entire body littered with hickeys and faint burns alike, his own spend drying uncomfortably in his underclothes. It’s worse yet because they have no hope in hell of sneaking in undetected when everyone is waiting up, worried about them, and Lance really isn’t able to hide the state he’s in. So he’s forced to stand in front of all of them with Keith’s marks covering his skin. Nevermind that he feels everywhere Keith’s hands were like the heat of them lingers still.</p><p>Coran is kind enough to not comment or let his gaze linger on any of it, instead averting his eyes.</p><p>Shiro glares at him all the while like they’ve done it all to spite him, and at one point he even offers Lance a sweater that he pulls on despite himself, ignoring the way Keith visibly bristles next to him like his marks being covered is the worst possible outcome.</p><p>Allura isn’t discreet in the slightest in her excitement for him and it’s more than a little bit embarrassing when she runs to greet him with a hug and instead freezes at the last moment to hold his hand up, admiring the bite mark Keith had fit around his ring finger, of all places. He’d claimed that that one was to ward away any wandering human eyes, while the rest were to make sure all of his fellow familiars knew he was<em> claimed </em>. Fucking territorial phoenixes.</p><p>--</p><p>In the days following, they start to formulate a plan.</p><p>Shiro is in his element, making diagrams and attempting to prepare them for battle. It’s not a straightforward sort-of thing either, they’re going to need to use all the time they have left to practice their roles on the battlefield. Shiro drives them like a drill sergeant, between physical work-outs and meetings in the boardroom he’s set-up in his office. It’s exhausting in more ways than one, but Lance can’t deny that he’s already in better shape than he’s ever been after just a short couple weeks, and he knows it was necessary after his run-in with the hellhounds where he’d barely been able to outrun them without his legs collapsing beneath him.</p><p>Keith takes to the training infuriatingly well, probably because he’s been treated like a soldier before, and being molded to fit into a role is sort-of his specialty. He actually starts to like Shiro, a little bit. Some mornings Lance will get up early and walk downstairs to find them both in the kitchen, or outside, and rather than practicing their fighting or their magic, they’re simply talking. And all things considered, Lance is happy for them both. He knows that Keith needed another friend to lean on, but he thinks that all this time Shiro might have needed one too.</p><p>Lance spends a lot of time practicing his magic too, though it’s not with Shiro, or with anyone for that matter. While everyone else is off on their own honing their skills, brewing potions of all manner, reading ancient tombs for any sort-of advantage in the fight… Lance spends his time in the woods with the hellhounds at his side. He finds that he can’t summon any more than what he already has, but there’s seventeen of them leftover from that night that come when he calls.</p><p>He’s named all of them, actually. They’re not so bad, once you get past the rotting flesh and the general lack of brains about them. They’re eager to please and entirely obedient, as long as they understand what Lance is asking of them. That understanding is mostly limited to pointing them at a target and watching them rip it to shreds, but that makes sense considering that was their only real purpose before now. Anyway, some of them seem to have more recognition than others, or are just more determined to serve, so they catch onto his other requests sooner.</p><p>At one point he gets them playing fetch and it takes an hour to calm them down enough to walk away.</p><p>So, he keeps himself busy, busy enough not to let the dread sink in too heavily.</p><p>It helps when Keith is actually around, though. He finishes up training in the evenings and Lance always makes sure to be back in the house by then, so he can welcome him back. He comes in flushed and sweaty, beaming in a way that’s undoubtedly contagious. As much as the circumstances are undesirable, it’s clear that Keith likes having a reason to push himself, likes the thrill of the fight he gets with a worthy opponent. Most nights he even comes back still energized, still antsy, the fire in his wings burning bright with all of the excess adrenaline coursing through him.</p><p>Those nights Lance is doubly thankful that he decided to make himself plenty available.</p><p>They sneak off to the nearest hidden alcove, an empty room, a locked bathroom, even the greenhouses on more than one occasion. Keith gets his hands on him and doesn’t want to stop, or maybe doesn’t know how to, and what started as a harmless stolen kiss or two always devolves into something much hungrier. Only, it never really progresses past that initial desire and groping and grinding against each other, because someone always fucking… <em> interrupts </em> them.</p><p>Coran coming looking for Lance’s help with chores at the least opportune moment, Shiro hoping that Keith has a minute to spare to go over his latest battle plans, Allura looking for a friend to rant to about her day or someone to relax with after a long day of work. The specifics don’t really matter, the point is… they never really find the relief Keith seems to need to calm down, and with each passing day Lance finds himself getting more and more riled up, until he’s sure he could give that phoenix energy a run for its money if he was only allowed to.</p><p>Other than a few quick and clumsy orgasms brought on by dry-humping against a wall in a dusty supplies closet, and one memorable instance where Keith had actually managed to get Lance’s pants down around his knees and get his hand on him without any barriers between the skin on skin… they haven’t gone any further. Much to both of their dismay.</p><p>Keith voices <em> his </em> dismay loudly, petulantly, and <em> grumpily </em>every chance and every way he gets. It’s getting to the point that he’s almost as moody as he’d been when they’d first arrived, and everyone else surely notices it, but Lance most of all. It’s a unique test of his willpower to keep from giving in and just letting Keith have his way with him at any given minute of the day.</p><p>It’s harder at night, both huddled into a bed that’s entirely too small for two people to share because Keith refuses to sleep on the cot that Coran arranged for him in the corner. Not that Lance really minds, he likes sleeping snuggled up close to Keith’s warmth, strong wings sheltering them both from the outside world. It makes him feel just a little bit safer than sleeping alone would, and with the current circumstances, he’ll chase that feeling of safety any way he can.</p><p>It’s just when Keith does things like<em> this </em>that Lance wonders if sharing a bed is really such a good idea. </p><p>When he rolls over and settles on top of Lance, his weight settled on top of the entire length of Lance’s body, eyes dark with desire in the dim light emitted from his wings. What is Lance meant to say to that? To Keith, nuzzling against the underside of his jaw, placing light fluttering kisses across his skin, lavishing attention to the bitemarks he’d left earlier in the evening and making sure they keep their purpled hue. </p><p>It’s painstakingly caring and domestic, in the same way that it’s suffocatingly possessive and<em> hungry </em>.</p><p>And when he starts up that clicking and sputtering purr of sorts, rough and clumsy in the back of his throat like he’s never once had an excuse to learn how to do it properly until he met Lance… fuck.</p><p>“Hey.” Keith whispers to him in the darkness tonight, chin settles on Lance’s chest as he admires his latest work. Lance can feel his latest work where it resides against the dip of his collarbone, can feel the dull throb and the coolness of the night air against the saliva left behind. </p><p>“Hi.” Lance answers, trying to keep his tone flat and unimpressed. It really is a lost cause, he knows that, but it still pisses him off when Keith calls him out so succinctly by simply rolling his hips downward. Just the barest hint of pressure against Lance’s already aching erection and Lance forgets why he was meant to be mad in the first place. It takes him a good ten seconds to blink his eyes open again and glare at Keith, bodily shoving him off and onto his own side of the bed. “What do you <em> want </em>, Keith?”</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” Keith sighs, tossing his head back against the pillow, dark hair fanning across the light-colored linen. The pout on his lips would undoubtedly be adorable if it were for any other reason, as it is Lance can hardly fight the urge to kiss it off of him. He knows he won’t be able to stop once he starts though, and Keith knows it too, the bastard. “I want <em> you. </em>”</p><p>“I want you too.” Lance says, for maybe the hundredth time this week, and with each time that passes it seems to alleviate the longing in Keith’s gaze even<em> less </em> . Tonight, it barely changes his expression at all, if anything it only grows heavier.  “ <em> But </em> we have to wait. Coran’s room is literally right beside us. His bed is on the other side of this <em> wall </em>. I would die inside if he overheard us. You know this.” </p><p>“Please?” Keith says, and it catches Lance off guard given before he’d always dropped the topic the second Lance mentioned Coran. He’d thought they were both of the understanding that no matter how badly they wanted it, it wouldn’t be worth the inevitable awkward exchange that’d follow the next morning. Keith seems to have changed his mind, given the hand sliding across the empty stretch of mattress between them. It settles on Lance’s thigh, kneads and squeezes it playfully, grip slowly sliding upward toward where Lance really wants that hand. “We can be<em> quiet. </em>”</p><p>“Oh? Can you? Because I have my doubts after last time.”</p><p>“How was I supposed to know Shiro was walking by the closet at just <em> that </em> second?” </p><p>“Not to mention the poor sheets, they’d probably go up in flame if we actually fucked, considering your current track record.” Lance presses even further, mercilessly, in hopes of making Keith understand what a foolish, impulsive, cock-driven plan this was. If either one of them was thinking sensibly, it wouldn’t even be up for discussion. Only Lance is already hard, hard enough that when the backs of Keith’s knuckles brush against him through the thin fabric of his sleep shorts, his hips cant upward off the bed.</p><p>And Keith… <em> Well, </em> Keith was never really one for self control.</p><p>“I’m getting better at controlling it! I’ve been training with Shiro!” Keith insists, the hand that’d been oh so close to cupping Lance’s bulge through his clothes disappears to his hip now and pinches at the skin there in reprimand, making sure he knows that he’s genuinely offended Keith this time with his teasing.</p><p>“Shiro has been teaching you how to not heat up and burst into flame when someone’s getting you off?” </p><p>“Obviously fucking not.” Keith growls out, raising his voice enough that Lance has to take one for the team and lean in to kiss him quiet again. “I didn’t <em> burst into flame </em> either. I caught one fucking blanket on fire, who cares, Coran had hundreds of them. He won’t even notice that one missing.”</p><p>“He sure noticed the smoke filling the entire first floor afterward though, didn’t he?”</p><p>“Look, you’ve proven your point, I’ll go to bed.” Keith grumbles, rolling over onto his other side, leaving his back facing Lance for the first time in the entirety of nights they’ve spent together. Lance feels a little hurt, but mostly he just feels mesmerized by the sight of all Keith’s feathers so close to him.</p><p>He swallows hard, reaching out to trace his fingers through them. </p><p>Keith tenses up in a way that says he’s definitely still awake, but Lance still doesn’t<em> stop </em>.</p><p>He loses himself to it, raking his fingers through Keith’s feathers, feeling the gentle brush of them against his skin. His fingers, his palm, his wrist, his arm, his face when he leans in close and buries it between the both of them. In front of him, Keith gives a choked-off moan, like Lance has just mortally wounded him.</p><p>“If I hear so much as a peep out of you, I’m stopping.” Lance warns. It’s not loud at all, barely a ghost of a whisper past his lips, but he knows that Keith will hear it with how closely he’s definitely listening for it.</p><p>It doesn’t necessarily surprise him when Keith responds in kind by immediately rolling onto his back again, but it does shock him how quick Keith is to reach for him. There’s not an ounce of shame in it, as he blindly grabs for Lance and coaxes him on top of him. Lance settles awkwardly in his lap, not sure what to make with the sudden power.</p><p>“You won’t. I’ll be quiet as a <em> mouse </em>.” Keith assures him, grinning goofily up at him, looking for all intents and purposes like Lance has just handed him the moon. Lance sits back on his knees and looks up and down the length of Keith’s body sprawled across the sheets beneath him. Keith swallows hard, the smile shifting into more of a smirk, eyes narrowing into a lust-filled stare. “What are you gonna do?”</p><p>“I don’t know yet.” Lance admits, though he still can’t keep himself from admiring what’s being offered to him. He rakes his eyes over Keith’s body appreciatively, uncertain where he wants to touch most. He wonders if Keith experiences touch the same way humans do or if the places that’ll drive him wild are completely different from Lance’s. It’s strange, how similar they are and how different they can still be.</p><p>“Can I make a suggestion?”</p><p>“You’ve done this before?” Lance doesn’t mean to let quite so much surprise show in his voice, but he’s truly caught off guard by the fact Keith knows enough to suggest things at all. Of course he’d figured, Keith seemed to have some basic level understanding of how these things worked. But he’d never readily volunteered to tell him about any past experiences, so Lance just assumed he didn’t have any.</p><p>Rather than answer, Keith stares owlishly back at him, a single eyebrow quirked in question. Lance draws a heavy breath, sighing. “If you must know, no, <em> I haven’t </em>. Allura and I never went any further than we already have and she was my only real girlfriend. Now, please, your turn.”</p><p>“I’ve been around a long time, Lance.” Keith admits, shrugging his shoulders in a way that could almost be mistaken as sheepish, if Lance didn’t know him any better. “There were a lot of very lonely, very horny soldiers in the war. And I was a very curious, very eager to please young familiar. I’m sure you can imagine how that might go.”</p><p>Oh yes, Lance can <em> definitely </em> imagine.</p><p>“Alright, what’s <em> your </em>suggestion then?”</p><p>“Want you to put your mouth on me.” Keith’s still making a genuine effort to keep his voice hushed, but the whine that follows the words doesn’t seem to be something within his control. Like the mere thought of what he’s asking for overwhelms him too much to even think straight. Lance can’t deny that the thought of wrenching more reactions like that one out of him is an appealing one. “Please?”</p><p>“I won’t know what I’m doing.” He warns, but he’s already moving down the length of the bed, eyes fixed on the prize. He’s never seen Keith naked, other than the occasional glimpse in the mornings or while he was changing. But never once has he gotten a glimpse at what he’s packing between his legs and the truth is, the curiosity has really been starting to wear on him. </p><p>All he knows is that Keith’s definitely a grower, that when things first start out between them and they take to grinding hot and heavy in a closet, Lance can never feel much of anything at all between Keith’s legs. Then, as things progress, the outline of his cock becomes more and more noticeable against Lance’s own, until Keith’s is somehow managing to dwarf his in size. Obviously it’s hard to know for sure with so many layers between them, but that’s exactly why Lance is eager to undress him now.</p><p>“That’s fine, it’s still good, just be careful with your teeth.” Keith promises. Then, as if reading Lance’s mind, he reaches down and tucks his fingers under the waistband of his sole article of clothing he’d worn to bed. Lance glances up at him, locks eyes with him and holds the heated gaze for a long moment, then looks back down just in time to watch Keith reveal himself.</p><p>Immediately, some of Lance’s questions are answered, while… <em> other </em> questions arise. <em> Many of them. </em></p><p>Because Lance, well, he’s not exactly sure what he’s looking at. Where he’d been expecting some manner of penis, small or large, soft or hard, the specifics didn’t really cross his mind, instead he finds a sparsely feathered area between Keith’s legs that harbors a fleshy <em> slit </em>. Not unlike a vagina, which Lance is vaguely familiar with, but also… entirely unlike a vagina. Lance has never seen anything quite like it.</p><p>“Keith, I’m as flexible as the next curious, horny individual… but I literally have no idea how to navigate this. You’re gonna have to walk me through it.” He admits, deciding that it’s best to be honest in these types of situations. He watches as Keith picks himself up onto his elbows and peers down at him, a lopsided fond smile playing at the corners of his lips.</p><p>“Lick at it, rub it a little bit, it’ll come. We’re not actually as different as it looks, I just keep mine inside when I’m not using it. Once you start touching me, you’ll understand.” Keith sounds nothing but patient, and it really is reassuring, so Lance decides to give it his best shot and just go for it. Keith doesn’t look like the confusion has managed to turn him off or discourage him, so why should Lance let it get to him?</p><p>He starts with his fingers, rubbing two of them through the slick opening, simply getting a feel for the soft give of Keith’s body. Keith is definitely sensitive here, his entire body locking up, legs kicking out blindly and spasming as he rocks down against Lance’s hand, and then just as quickly flinches away from it like the direct stimulation is too much. Lance isn’t sure if he’s doing something very right or very wrong, but he trusts that Keith would tell him if it were the latter.</p><p>The longer he toys with Keith’s opening, the slicker it gets, until his fingertips are meeting no resistance at all as he rubs them back and forth across it. He finds himself frequently glancing up at Keith to watch his reactions, wondering if he’s doing anything remotely right. He seems to be, as Keith is flinching away in oversensitivity less now, instead rocking down against his hand with the same enthusiasm he usually humps his thigh with. Lance wonders what would happen if he were to slip a finger<em> inside </em>of Keith here, where he’s already so wet and inviting, like he’s meant to be fucked. Or is he only meant to do what he’s doing now and nothing more, toy with the seam of his sorta-cunt until something changes and-</p><p>He doesn’t have time to voice his questions to Keith before something <em> does </em> change.</p><p>He starts to feel his fingers meet resistance, something that keeps them from pushing further inside if they wanted to, and the more he seems to rub at it, the more it seems to push back against the touch.</p><p>“Fuck, okay, that’s enough.” Keith grits out, hands curled into fists in the sheets. Uncertain, Lance pulls his hands back, and instead simply sits there dumbfounded as the head of a cock slowly but surely protrudes from Keith’s slit. As Keith writhes rather helplessly against the bed Lance does feel inclined to try and help him somehow, to coax him through the seemingly overwhelming process, it’s just that he can’t bring himself to do anything other than <em> stare </em>.</p><p>It’s not<em> exactly </em> comparable to a human cock, but it <em> is </em> vaguely phallic-shaped. Just with far more fleshy ridges spanning the length of it, winding around the entire shaft and converging just below the flared head, where they twist and overlap to make the head just that much wider than the rest of the shaft. And of course it’s longer than the average human… the averagely well-endowed human. <em> Much, much </em>longer, as Lance comes to realize by the time it’s seemingly fully unsheathed and Keith is laying there panting after the exertion of it.</p><p>Lance feels a shiver of trepidation run down his spine at the thought of putting something that size anywhere near his mouth, let alone anywhere else.</p><p>“Holy shit.” Lance doesn’t<em> mean </em>to gasp aloud in shock, he knows that that’s definitely not the preferred reaction when you show your penis to someone for the first time, but he can’t help it. He’s properly awed, taken aback by the sheer size of the cock in front of him. He’d known that Keith was a generally big guy, an even bigger creature in his other form, but it’d never occurred to him that they could be this different, for Keith’s body to be completely alien to him.</p><p>“It’s not that weird.” Keith says eventually, sitting up with his hair falling in his eyes, a hazy pink blush spread across the bridge of his nose. He looks wrecked already and Lance hasn’t even touched him.</p><p>“I didn’t say it was!” Lance is quick to try and alleviate some of the tension, chuckling awkwardly afterward as he makes a very, very valiant attempt not to stare. He fails, of course, but an effort was certainly made. It’s just hard not to look at it when it takes up most of his line of vision. He licks his lips, glancing nervously between Keith’s amused face and the tip of his cock, where a pearlescent bead of pre-cum has gathered. At least that part’s the same. “Though, you have to admit, coming from someone who’s never seen a penis other than my own before… this is a little, uh, different than the hardware I’m used to working with.”</p><p>“I’ll admit that.” Keith offers and at this point he’s starting to look awkward too, his rosy flush quickly progressing into one of genuine embarrassment. Nevermind that his wings have shifted from an ombre of burning scarlets and burgundies to a more mellow series of yellows and oranges. He’s upset. Lance isn’t sure when he learned how to read his tells so well, but he’s glad he can. “It’s okay if you want to stop, Lance. I’ll drop it, we can wait until you feel ready.”</p><p>“No, no, no, that’s not what I want.” Lance finds himself saying before he’s even put much thought into it, but as he watches Keith awkwardly sit up and bring his knees up to his chest, covering himself sheepishly, Lance has never been more certain that he <em> does not </em>want to stop. “Bring it back out here.”</p><p>Keith shoots him a glare that says his dirty talk leaves a little something to be desired, but he does eventually open his legs again. His cock hasn’t fully retreated inside of him again, but it’s not near as full and attentive as before. Lance reaches for it, eyeing Keith all the while for any sign of discomfort, and slowly wraps his hand around it. It’s already slick from base to tip, pre-lubed and ready to go, almost ridiculously coated with the stuff… so Lance’s fist glides right over it, meeting little to no resistance despite all the ridges. Fuck. Maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad inside of him after all.</p><p>The thought gives him pause, hand stuttering to a stop, and he’s sure his face is a darker red than Keith’s now. Keith bucks up into his touch the moment his hand stills, seemingly beyond his control given the way he immediately flattens himself back to the mattress afterwards, looking nervous. </p><p>“You’re <em> sure </em> you don’t want to stop?” Keith asks again, eyeing him in concern. </p><p>“I don’t.” Lance insists, getting back to the task at hand and shuffling back down the bed. He lays on his stomach between Keith’s legs, wraps a hand around the base of his cock again to hold it steady.</p><p>“But it’s okay if you do.” Keith reminds him again, sounding inexplicably more nervous than Lance.</p><p>“But I don’t.” Lance insists yet again, stroking his cock from base to tip before maneuvering it toward his open mouth, lips already pursed to take it between them. Keith squirms then, a full-body shudder as he drops back against the pillows, unable to watch.</p><p>“I’m just saying, if you-” Lance really, <em> really </em> does not want to hear him say that sentence a fourth time, so he takes matters into his own hands, or rather his own mouth. He starts off by wrapping his lips around Keith’s tip and dragging his tongue across it, getting a feel for the shape and the taste. It seems normal enough, about the same as he imagined it would be. The strain on his jaw is immediately apparent and the taste is a little salty and musky, overall it’s… manageable. </p><p>Especially when it drags reactions like<em> that </em>out of Keith.</p><p>The jaw-dropped, eyes wide and blown black with lust, genuine flames leaping from his hands look of awe. Lance feels entirely undeserving for doing little more than sucking on the tip, but damn if the positive feedback doesn’t immediately go to his head. He decides to go bolder, wrapping his lips firmly around Keith’s shaft and sinking downward, taking more and more of him into his mouth until he can feel that impossibly large cockhead in the back of his throat. </p><p>All the while, he keeps his eyes glued to Keith, invested in every single reaction he gives.</p><p>Not that he needs to pay close attention to notice them, Keith is hardly quiet about it.</p><p> “Fuck!” Keith shouts, and there’s no way that Coran didn’t hear that through their shared wall, but Lance can’t be bothered to scold him when it means stopping what he’s doing. He thinks he might be starting to get the hang of it, as he bobs his head along the length of Keith’s cock. He doesn’t come anywhere near to taking it all, he’s not sure that it’s physically possible, but what he can’t swallow down he fits his fist around and jerks off that way. It’s also a unique experience watching the way he can completely control Keith’s reactions by just how tight he decides to grip the root of his cock.</p><p>When he grips him loose and easy, just barely lets his fingertips trace over Keith’s exposed flesh to contrast the hard press of his tongue against his cockhead, Keith goes lax against the sheets and turns into an incoherent babbling mess. He doesn’t push back, doesn’t try to force his way deeper, just lays there and lets Lance take him apart as slowly as he pleases.</p><p>Whereas when he wraps his fist firmly around Keith’s cock, grips him tight and unforgiving and lets his knuckles brush against the wet opening his cock extends from, then Keith gets <em> vicious </em>about it. Not necessarily violent, just feral like the phoenix he is. Wings flapping hard enough to knock things off of shelves around the room, legs kicking out to brace beneath himself so he can try to thrust into Lance’s mouth with single minded determination, hands clawing and pulling at Lance’s hair for leverage to fuck his throat better. </p><p>And, as Lance adjusts more and gets used to the sensation, he <em> lets him </em>.</p><p>“So good. Mm. You’re so good to me, Lance. Fuck.” Keith groans at some point, gripping the back of Lance’s head with a bruising insistence, like he’d pull away if the slightest amount of slack was given. Lance has no intention of pulling away, even as Keith uses his mouth with brutal accuracy, short jerky little thrusts in and out, cock dragging along the length of his tongue and giving him ample time to familiarize himself with every divot, dimple, and ridge. </p><p>The closer Keith gets, the more his filter seems to dissolve. The usually stoic and uncommunicative man he’s used to becomes a chatty, emotional mess. If Lance had known it was this easy to get him talking, he would have done it the very first day he brought him home. Granted, he probably would have been a lot rougher back then, brutal as he took his anger on the world out on Lance, but the more Lance gets a feel for sucking cock… the more he thinks he might not mind that so much.</p><p>“So pretty with my cock stretching your mouth wide. Bet you’ll be swallowing me down to the root in no time. Good boy, my mate, so perfect.” Keith coos at him, his voice quickly dissolving into that same clicking and sputtering purr, broken and disjointed but oh so eager. Lance responds in kind with more enthusiasm of his own, pushing to take Keith just a little bit deeper. Keith keens in response, the fingers wound into Lance’s soft brown hair growing tighter. “You like that? You like being a good boy for me? Hearing how perfect your mouth is, fits me like a glove. Like you were made for this, I swear.”</p><p>Lance does like that. He finds that he likes it an embarrassing amount, as he whimpers pathetically around Keith’s cock and sucks him eagerly in response, growing sloppy in his excitement. He can feel saliva shining against his chin, knows he has tears gathering on his cheeks that just slipped from his eyes with how furiously he’s been clenching them shut in concentration. But he’s desperate for more of Keith’s praise, so he pushes himself, rutting down against the bed as he lets Keith lead him along the length of his cock at whatever pace he so pleases, using his hair for leverage.</p><p>Granted, after pushing himself, Lance does find himself needing to come up for air.</p><p>He’s almost surprised by how quickly Keith’s grip relents at the first sign of a struggle, Lance has barely squirmed to try and pull off and Keith’s hand is already back in the sheets instead. He gasps raggedly for breath, hands braced firmly on Keith’s thighs, his swollen cockhead still brushing against Lance’s lips each time Lance leans forward even the slightest, or when Keith’s hips twitch upward on their own accord.</p><p>Keith props himself up on one elbow, dropping his other hand from Lance’s hair to his face.</p><p>“You’re so messy with it. Look at you.” Keith whispers, swiping his thumb across Lance’s chin in a vain attempt to clean up some of the drool gathered there. Lance whines pathetically in response and he doesn’t even know what it is he wants. For Keith to touch him more, to clean him properly, to make an even worse mess of him? He’s not sure. “I’m close. Gonna come soon. You want it?”</p><p>Suddenly, he’s very sure. He knows <em> exactly </em> what he wants</p><p>“Mm.” Lance hums, nodding his head eagerly, not trusting his voice right about now. He knows it’s going to be absolutely ruined when he does try to speak again. For now though, he doesn’t want Keith to worry, he just wants to be able to finish what he started and take care of him. He leans forward, lets his tongue loll out and teasingly trace around the head of Keith’s cock, flicking against the slit where steady drops of pre-cum well up with every passing second. Keith produces an obscene amount, but it probably makes sense, given his fucking monstrous size. Anything to ease the way when he finds a willing mate to shove that beast into and rut his heart out with.</p><p>“Yeah? You wanna be a good boy for me? Next time I’ll have to come in your tight little ass and breed you proper. Pin you down in my nest and show you what you signed up for being a phoenix’s mate.”</p><p>“Fuck.” Lance growls out, finding his voice unusually husky, as he coughs and chokes around the amount of Keith’s spend still coating his throat. Keith doesn’t look the least bit sympathetic either, he’s grinning devilishly, like maybe he knows that Lance really loved every second of it no matter how he’s gonna complain about the aftermath. Lance narrows his eyes at him, climbs up the line of his body, mindful of where his cock is steadily retreating back inside of him.</p><p>He drops himself down astride Keith’s stomach and starts to rut against it, rolling his hips clumsily against the fine lines of his abdomen. He’s still wearing his sleep clothes but he’s entirely too exhausted to bother taking them off first, so instead he just rocks against Keith with his shirt hanging from his frame and his underwear slowly darkening with pre-cum.</p><p>“That’s it, take what you need from me.” Keith grins up at him from the pillow, smugness radiating off of him in a way that a phoenix hardly needs. Lance digs his nails into Keith’s pecs vindictively and Keith’s grin only grows, until it’s utterly <em> cocky </em>. “Gonna hump me anywhere you can reach until you come in your pants like a teenager? That desperate for me? That turned on just from sucking me off and swallowing my come? What a good little cockslut you are, Lance, I think I might keep you. Might mark you up so the whole world knows who you belong to, my pretty boy, my good little mate.”</p><p>Lance doesn’t just fall over the edge, he dives, suddenly and unforgivingly into the deep end. He doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard in his life as he does in that moment, shaking apart on Keith’s stomach, cock jerking desperately in his boxers and staining them unforgivably. And Lance is too far gone to care about any of it, Keith’s words of praise still ringing in his ears.</p><p>A long moment passes before Lance comes back to himself enough to speak, or move, or do much of anything other than bask in the afterglow. Keith gets his wits about him first and pulls Lance down on top of him, yanking his underwear off and tossing them across the room. Lance makes a vaguely disgruntled noise, but that’s about as far as he gets into the complaint before Keith is pulling him back down into the nest and curling around him protectively. At that point, all complaints leave Lance’s mind in a rush.</p><p>“That was… a lot.” Lance mumbles eventually, snuggling back against the line of Keith’s chest behind him. Behind him, Keith makes a vaguely agreeable noise, but he seems too tired to offer much of value to the conversation. It wasn’t much of a conversation anyway, and Lance would’ve been more than willing to drop it and simply fall asleep tucked in close to Keith’s side, but a realization hits him in the last moments before unconsciousness that steals sleep away from him forever.</p><p>He bolts upright, staring straight ahead in horror.</p><p>“Coran definitely heard us.”</p><p>“He definitely did.” Keith agrees sleepily, chuckling into the arm he has thrown over his face. </p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>--</p><p>The morning after is the worst day of Lance’s life. Not only does Coran fucking <em> wink </em> at him over breakfast and send him choking on his pancake, but Shiro is back to looking stiff and angry and uncomfortable, and Allura keeps grinning at him in that infuriatingly giddy way. And beside him, Keith is nearly as fucking bad, the stupidly fond smile on his face not fading the entire day through.</p><p>It’s terrible. It’s the worst. It’s embarrassing and mortifying and unsettling and-</p><p>And it’s nowhere near enough to keep him from doing it all over again when Keith comes sidling up to him that next night, eyes wide and hopeful, wings already glowing a deep red from how worked up he’s already gotten himself. </p><p>Lance predicts a lot of awkward mornings in his future.</p><p>--</p><p>The day it all culminates into what they’ve been preparing for, no one<em> feels </em>prepared for it.</p><p>It’s a day that starts like any other, the five of them settled around the table for breakfast. Allura with a concoction of sorts brewing beside her meal that she’s keeping an eye on, as if it’s primed to explode if left unsupervised. Coran has his nose buried in some ratty looking old book that he insists is an important ancient text. Shiro and Keith are chatting from either side of the table, about battle plans and strategies that Lance can’t stomach to listen to anymore lest the anxiety kick in any harder than it already has. And there he sits at the far head of the table, across from Coran, beside Allura, close enough to reach out and kick Shiro’s foot if he wanted to, and tucked beneath the warmth of Keith’s wing.</p><p>Now, more than ever before, it feels like he has something to lose. He’s just glad that his family isn’t here putting themselves at risk too, he isn’t sure he’d be able to stand that.</p><p>The morning switches into afternoon, afternoon into evening, evening into night… and he and Keith retire to their room thinking they’ve made it through another day safely. They go to sleep side-by-side thinking they still have more time, time to plan, time to practice, time together. Neither one could have possibly known that Zarkon was already so very close.</p><p>In fact, they wouldn’t have known at all until Lance was already dead and gone, murdered just like the rest of Keith’s masters before him… if it weren’t for the small army of guard dogs at their disposal.</p><p>By the time a hellhound wakes Lance up with vicious snarling and snapping, there’s already a shadow in their room. The hellhound is attacking it with that mindless savageness that they’re known for, launching at the intruder again and again. Only, around the third time it latches onto the man’s leg, the poor dog ends up kicked off with enough magical force behind the punt that it goes flying straight through the wall of their bedroom and into Coran’s instead.</p><p>Lance bolts upright then with an ungodly scream, hand slapping Keith upside the face. </p><p>The phoenix is on his feet in an instant, a protective wall of flame surrounding them from the very moment his eyes open. In the room over, Lance hears a battle-cry, and then a potion is thrown back through the hell-hound shaped hole in the wall. The room is lit up in a second thanks to Coran’s help, and then Lance gets his first good look at their enemy.</p><p>Aside from the visibly unnatural aging from over-exerting himself magically, Zarkon looks like a completely normal man. He’s dressed in a heavy dark cloak and his skin is littered with runes and enchanted jewelry, but for the most part he looks like an average mage, if not a slightly overcommitted one. Nothing about him screams evil. Nothing about him makes Lance think he’s the type of monster capable of torturing Keith for lifetimes. Nothing, except for the curve of his smile as they make eye contact and he sees the fear in Lance’s expression.</p><p>From there, it’s all Lance can do to stay out of the crossfire as Keith launches himself into attack mode much like the hellhounds were prone to. None of Zarkon’s magic is exactly the same, he seems to be a jack of all trades, but Keith manages to at least hold most of it off with his flame while all the others rally behind him and stand on the sidelines waiting for their moment to step in. He keeps shouting at them to leave though, and up until now Lance has been ignoring him and assuming he’s been self-sacrificing, but he thinks he understands why when the carpet he’s standing on suddenly starts to be engulfed by a miscalculated flame. It spreads dangerously fast in Coran’s dusty, old house.</p><p>By the time Lance, Coran, Allura, and Shiro make it safely outside, there seem to be flames burning behind every window on the second floor. Lance’s injured hellhound sits at his feet and stares up at it as if recalling its day in the underworld, mesmerized as Coran’s home goes up in flame.</p><p>“What do we do now?”</p><p>“Do you have your potions, Allura?” Lance asks, glancing toward her. For all of his planning and scheming, Shiro seems uncharacteristically quiet with his home burning in front of him. When Allura gives him confirmation, Lance turns to the woods and finds nearly two dozen pairs of glowing red eyes staring back at him, eager to do his bidding. “Go to the clearing just south of here, where Keith and I fought the hellhounds. With the help of my buddies here, I should be able to make sure the message gets across to Keith, assuming he’s capable of following. You guys be ready to absolutely bomb Zarkon with potions if he steps foot in that clearing, slow him down however you can.”</p><p>“Alright.” Allura agrees, gathering up her knapsack full of potions and heading for the woods. Shiro lingers for a moment though, worried gaze still fixed on Coran, who hasn’t managed to look away from the burning house once. Shiro places a hand on his shoulder, consoling him wordlessly. </p><p>“Coran? Are you coming with us?”</p><p>“I intend to stay behind, if it’s all the same to you. I’ll fight the flames here while you fight Zarkon, as long as you can successfully lure him away.”</p><p>“We shouldn’t split up.” Shiro argues, lacking his usual confidence. Coran gives him a long, hard look like he’s trying to communicate something innate. “Fine. I’ll look after Allura. You look after yourself and the house, we’ll need a place to come back to and bandage our wounds assuming we survive this.”</p><p>“We will, Shiro, have some faith.” Coran grins at him, winking. “Or I’m not the wondrous and fantastical mage Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe!”</p><p>With Shiro and Allura headed to the clearing, Coran headed to lay low in the stables until Zarkon is safely out of the house and out of sight, Lance decides to act on his role in the plan. He calls the hellhounds to him and sends three of his best troops into the house, knowing the flames won’t affect them. They’ll flush Keith out, if he’s at all capable of leaving, and spread Lance’s message to him. Then, if they’re able to, they’ll hold Zarkon back long enough for Keith and Lance to meet up and go to the clearing together.</p><p>For a while, Lance is forced to wait around in the backyard, listening to the crashing and shouting going on inside the house. Every now and then another window will burst from its pane, shattered by a powerful bolt of magic, or a body thrown heavily through it. Thankfully, it hasn’t been Keith’s body yet, considering his wings won’t be able to catch him and he doesn’t have the levitational magic Zarkon seems to.</p><p>When Keith finally, finally comes running out of the flames… Lance feels almost more worry than relief. </p><p>He’s already significantly roughed up, bleeding from multiple wounds, wings torn apart worse than the actual hellhounds had managed during their battle. Lance gulps, running out of hiding and calling Keith over to him, who quickly joins him under the cover of the trees. Lance immediately starts to look over his wounds, hoping to patch him up some before he has to go back onto the frontlines of the fight.</p><p>They don’t have long though, the hellhounds can only hold off Zarkon for a short period of time, so as soon as Keith feels up to it they go sprinting through the forest toward the clearing. Lance’s hounds flank them on all sides, surprisingly silent and calculated as they move through the night, as if they inherently know they can’t draw attention to themselves right now and blow their cover.</p><p>They rush into the clearing and Allura immediately starts slathering healing salves onto Keith’s wounds, magical fast-acting ones that should manage to temporarily ease his aches and pains. In the distance, they can hear the thudding footsteps as the ground shakes with Zarkon’s approach. He doesn’t need the element of surprise or the use of discretion on his side, his upperhand is solely his strength and he knows it. The forest seems to know it too, as trees fall in the distance around him.</p><p>Zarkon reaches the clearing and immediately the fight picks up again. The potions do something to slow him, but nothing to hurt him, no matter how many of them Shiro drops on him from overhead and Allura flings from the trees. Zarkon bats it all off with indifference like they’re throwing bath water on him.</p><p>He has his eyes set on the prize, glued to where Keith is slumped against Lance’s chest, panting wantonly for air in an effort to catch his breath before the battle resumes. Only, it doesn’t look like he’s going to have time for that if he wants any hope in hell of not backsliding terribly in the fight and losing what little footing he has against his enemy.</p><p>Lance lets Keith take off toward him despite the way he’s still limping, still nursing a wing that’s tucked at an unnatural angle behind his back. There’s not much else he can do, they all know that Keith is their best bet if they hope to survive this. As much as Lance hates the idea of using him as a weapon, his power is unrivalled, and nothing they could do would replace its place in this battle.</p><p>Still, it does something horrible to Lance’s entire being as he watches Zarkon fling Keith around the clearing like a ragdoll. His magic seems to know no bounds, a never-ending flurry of color and strength, calling on everything from the weather to the ground itself beneath their feet. It’s certainly harder for Keith to fight with fire when there’s a downpour overhead, and when the ground seems intent on shaking and falling apart beneath him.</p><p>One particular tremor sends Keith flying off his feet and into the dirt.</p><p>At that point, Lance decides that it’s passed time for him to join in. He calls on the hounds to occupy Zarkon for as long as they can, determined to make it across the twenty foot distance between him and Keith where he’s laying, collapsed in the dirt.</p><p>“Keith!” Lance shouts, running to him through the fallout, dodging craters in the ground and hellhound bodies as he goes. He slides through the dirt to where Keith landed, wings crumpled beneath him. He sits up when he sees Lance coming though, a bittersweet smile on his face in greeting. </p><p>“<em> Lance </em>.” Keith sighs out, all relief and sadness wrapped up into one, and it’s clear exactly how he thinks this is going to play out. Lance shakes his head against it, refuses to believe he might be right.</p><p>“Don’t look at me like that.” Lance growls out at him, ripping off a piece of his shirt to wrap it clumsily around the bleeding gash in Keith’s arm. It doesn’t look good. Nothing about this looks good. But he promised to help Keith and he’s not going to give up until he draws his last breath. “We can still do this.”</p><p>“<em> How </em>?”</p><p>“Together.” Lance answers firmly, reaching down to where Keith’s hand is supporting him in the dirt and threading their fingers together. Keith looks over at him, eyes narrowing as his usual determination comes back to him. “We’ll do it as mage and familiar. Let’s combine our magic, your fire with my fiery beasts from hell, what could go wrong?”</p><p>“A lot. We’ve never done it before, what if we can’t handle it?”</p><p>“Then we’ll burn the whole forest down, but we’ll take him out with us.”</p><p>“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Keith says decisively, turning to where their friends are still struggling to hold Zarkon at bay with the potions they’ve been dropping all along. The hounds are helping, but it’s clearly a losing battle, as the evil mage advances more and more every time Lance looks. He isn’t going to stand by and watch when he finally reaches Allura, he has to intervene before that happens. Keith seems to be thinking the exact same. “Shiro! Get Allura out of here, take her to safety!”</p><p>“Hey, I don’t need to be protected, I can handle my-” No one has to interrupt Allura, she cuts herself off when she takes inventory of whatever matching intense expressions Lance and Keith are both wearing. It seems to pain her deeply to do so, but she throws the last of her potions all at once in a last-ditch effort, and then makes a beeline for Shiro. </p><p>“I’ll take care of her.” Shiro calls, as he scoops her up in his arms, massive wings already beginning to flap to pick up some momentum for takeoff. Keith grins over at him, waving him off. “Good luck!”</p><p>With that, Shiro takes off and flies her toward the treeline, back in the direction of whatever mess is left of Coran’s poor house. Hopefully they’ll be able to salvage something, especially with each other’s help.</p><p>But for now, Lance has bigger problems to deal with. Without the steady throwing of potions, Allura’s last farewell to the battle, Zarkon is advancing across the clearing far quicker. The hounds are giving it their best effort, but each time one lunges at him he simply lifts his hand and sends them flying with a flick of his finger. Easy, uninvolved, none of them manage to get close enough to do any damage.</p><p>“Keith, Keith, Keith, why do you insist on doing this time and time again? When will you just let it sink into your fucking head. Learn this lesson already, it’ll always end the same.” Zarkon calls, each of his steps causing the ground to tremble, his hands glowing with powerful magic. “You. Alone. Running off to that damn prison because everyone who cares enough to help you winds up dead.”</p><p>“Not this time.” Keith growls out, summoning the last of his strength to push himself to his feet. Lance helps as much as he can, until they’re both leaning on each other for support, hands clasped tightly together as they call on their own magic. It’s strange, the feeling of Keith’s magic and his merging together and becoming one solid entity. It’s not entirely unlike his first experience with using his newly blackened magic, only it’s somehow more intense. The energy rolling off of Keith in waves is so strong, overbearing, it almost feels like more than Lance could ever hope to harness.</p><p>It’s the sort-of thing a normal mage would take decades practicing with their familiar, especially if their intention was to use it as a mass weapon. As it is, they’re gonna have to fly by the seat of their pants and hope that it doesn’t implode on the both of them for messing with something they don’t know a damn thing about yet.</p><p>“Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” Zarkon replies, crouching down and preparing to strike.</p><p>With that, he surges forward in the same instant that Keith and Lance throw their joined hands up, using all their focus to channel their magic out into the world. For a terrifying moment, nothing seems to happen, and Lance feels guilt hit him like a train as he automatically assumes it’s his fault. It’s always been him in the past, always been him that leaves something to be desired in the magic department.</p><p>But then in an instant, the clearing lights up in flame. It bursts forward in the same instant that Zarkon’s magic starts to crawl across the ground toward them like a poisonous mist, crawling and creeping across the grass. It causes a series of explosions where the two magics meet and Lance grips Keith’s hand all the more tighter, fearing for the worst. Wordlessly, he closes his eyes and wills all the hellhounds to retreat, to get as far away as quickly as they can. It won’t be safe for them here no matter what happens next.</p><p>The clashing magics sizzle, brewing into something more, fighting against one another to see which comes out on top as the most powerful. Lance holds his breath all the while, especially as the dark fog of Zarkon’s magic seemingly starts to engulf the flame of theirs, threatening to overtake it completely.</p><p>“Keith.” Lance whispers, voice cracking with fear. Keith turns to look at him, smiling shakily, eyes shining with wetness that Lance can’t even lie to himself and pretend has anything to do with the wind whipping around them. He meets Keith halfway when he starts to lean in and then they’re kissing, like it’s their last time, like they’ll never get the chance to do it again. Lance tastes soot and saltwater alike as he presses his lips tightly to Keith’s, chasing after him when he attempts to pull away and kissing him <em> harder </em>.</p><p>If this is how they’re gonna go out, he doesn’t want to see it. He can’t watch.</p><p>Only, nothing ever comes to wrench them apart, and instead the sounds around them shift from howling winds to something more familiar, the quiet snapping and crackling of flames. Lance is the first to pull away then, wide-eyed and wondrous, as he looks around them and finds the entire clearing aflame. </p><p>Zarkon is nowhere to be found in the walls of dancing flames on all sides of them.</p><p>Lance turns to Keith again then, slowly untangling their hands.</p><p>“Is it over? Is he gone?” Lance dares to ask, though a part of him can’t help but fear he’s only jinxing them by even hoping for that to be the case. But Keith looks equally as curious, like he’s never come this close before. He takes a step toward the flames, until they’re practically lapping at his frame.</p><p>“There’s only one way to be sure.” Keith says, glancing back at him. “I have to go in after him and make sure that the deed’s done. I’ll be right back. If I don’t come back, I want you to run as far and as fast as you can away from here. Don’t look back.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“I’ll find you. No matter what.” Keith promises, standing tall, wings damaged but proud where they unfold from his back and stretch behind him. His entire body is littered with injuries, but somehow he’s never looked stronger. Lance doesn’t doubt that he’s entirely capable of finishing this himself if he has to, it’s his battle after all. As much as Lance wanted to and did help him along the way, it should be Keith to finish this once and for all.</p><p>“Okay.” Lance agrees, still reluctant, but unable to deny Keith anything when he looks so serious. He hasn’t asked him for much all this time after all, and Lance is loath to deny him when he gets the chance to give him something. If his safety is the most valuable thing right now, then he’ll do what he can to hold up his promise and steer clear of danger. “Remember what you promised. Come back to me.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>With that, Keith sprints directly into the wall of flame, not looking back once. </p><p>Those few minutes that Lance spends waiting on the sidelines for any sign either way that they’ve won or lost are the longest minutes of his life. He feels like he’s aware of every breath he draws, every cloud that passes overhead, every too-quick beat of his heart in his chest. It feels like it’s a never ending stretch of time and he’ll never be free of the hold anxiety has on his heart.</p><p>And then, just as suddenly as it’d appeared, the entire field full of fire they’d summoned disappears.</p><p>It’s gone in an instant, snuffed out like the burning wick of a candle after it’s blown on. All that’s left behind is the charred and blackened grass that covers the clearing everywhere but where Lance stands.</p><p>Despite how agonizingly long the wait had felt to be able to look, now that he’s given the option he’s terrified to move. He doesn’t see Keith or Zarkon anywhere, which almost makes him think right from the start that Zarkon had runaway with Keith in tow, taken the cowardly way out and not even stuck around to give Lance a fighting chance against him. But, when Lance finally ventures out into the blackened graveyard of grass… he finds an unmistakable outline of a body.</p><p>Zarkon’s body, if the burnt enchanted jewelry mixed in amongst the ashes is anything to go off of.</p><p>Which begs the question of where <em> Keith </em>is.</p><p>It doesn’t take all that long to get his answers, but he’s immediately and viscerally aware of the fact that they’re not the ones he was hoping for. All of three steps away from Zarkon’s own body, burnt beyond the point of recognition… Lance finds another pile of ashes in the general shape of a person. And he wants more than anything to dismiss it as a trick of the eye, or even to pretend it’s one of his hellhounds that he lost during the fight… but there’s no mistaking the long outline of wings on either side of the outline.</p><p>Lance’s falls to his knees in the mess of soot and desperately stares, begging it to take on another shape, begging Keith to come strolling nonchalantly out of the woods, or even limping and badly-injured. At least then they’d have a fighting chance at saving him. At least then there’d be something left to save.</p><p>It makes no sense. Keith has walked through fire a hundred times in the short amount of time Lance has known him, never once had he mentioned anything about it hurting, let alone burning him to the point that he could die from it. It was meant to be a mild discomfort at most, not whatever this is.</p><p>Was it Lance’s fault? Did his magic taint it somehow?</p><p>He spends minute after minute trying to wrap his head around it, trying to make sense of what happened, what went wrong. Why didn’t Keith call out for him? Why didn’t he hear anything that happened within the flame? Why would the universe leave him here in the aftermath, alone, with nothing but the pieces to put back together of his life?</p><p>He got what he signed up for. He saved his own skin from the hellhounds. It was all he’d wanted going into this, his only goal, his single-minded focus. He wanted to make sure he lived, so his mother wouldn’t end up heartbroken over his untimely death. He just wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone.</p><p>He’d never accounted for the possibility that he could be the one that ended up hurt like this.</p><p>He<em> wasn’t supposed to get attached </em>, after all.</p><p>He loses track of time. He loses track of everything but the emotions raging in his chest, switching between agony like he’s never known it and rage more blinding than anything he’s ever experienced.  </p><p>“Lance!” Allura’s voice rings out loudly in the empty clearing, breaking the silence that’d been suffocating Lance for what must have been the better part of an hour. Still, he doesn’t move from the spot he’s in, from the curled-up and small position he’s been holding ever since he realized. He hears her approaching footfalls and closes his eyes, like he can retreat into his mind and avoid the confrontation altogether. He isn’t ready for this yet, he knows he isn’t. “Are you alright?! What happened?”</p><p>Her hand settles on his back and he winces away from it, a choked little gasp slipping past his lips.</p><p>She doesn’t ask him anymore questions, but he feels them like a weight on his shoulders anyway.</p><p>“He’s gone.” Lance says through his teeth, forcing it out. “Allura, he’s<em> gone </em>.”</p><p>“<em> Keith </em>?”</p><p>“Yes. He walked into the flames and he didn’t come back out, now look at this.” Lance forces himself to look down at the charred outline of ash in front of him, even as it brings the pain to the front of his chest all over again, forces him to relive the trauma of it. He immediately recoils, turning around to face the other direction instead, hoping she got the message anyway.</p><p>“No.” Allura whispers, the words wrenched out of her. She brings her hands up to cover her mouth, gasping quietly as she finally registers what it is she’s looking at. She kneels next to him then, knees hitting the dirt with a solid thud. Lance immediately collapses into her side, sobs picking up all over again, his entire body shuddering with the force of his cries. “No, it can’t be. He can’t be.”</p><p>“He is.” </p><p>“I don’t know what to say.” Allura wraps her arms around him and holds him so close, but it’s not enough to keep him together, he’s still falling apart. The pain subsides only to a numbness, an utter hollowness in his chest that’s somehow worse. He wonders if this is how Keith felt when he lost Thace, or how Shiro felt after losing Adam. It’s harrowing, he hadn’t even thought himself capable of hurting this badly. </p><p>“He held up his end of the deal, he protected me.” Lance says, sniffling. “I couldn’t protect<em> him </em>.”</p><p>“Lance. Is there anything I can do?” Allura breathes his name so quietly, gentle with it like that’ll somehow make what he’s going through right now any easier on him. He appreciates the care, but it’s useless. She can’t bring Keith back and that’s the only thing that’d help him now.</p><p>“Take me home.” Lance finds himself saying, though he still feels far away from the moment, somewhere outside of his own body. It’s almost like a defense mechanism, like his brain has gone offline to spare itself against the heavy emotions warring inside. Only, it doesn’t feel fair to Keith, that he shouldn’t feel the full scope of the grief that’s grabbed hold of him at his loss. Regardless, there’s one thing he’s certain of, and that’s how much he doesn’t want to be in front of his friends when it hits him again and he realizes that Keith is really, truly gone. “I need to be alone.”</p><p>“I’ll get Shiro to fly you back, if that’s really what you want.”</p><p>“It is.”</p><p>--</p><p>“Shiro? I don’t live here anymore, I have my own cottage-”</p><p>“I know. You don’t need to be alone right now, Lance. You need support. You need your family.”</p><p>“How do you know what I need?”</p><p>“I don’t, but do you really think Keith would be okay with you holing yourself away in your misery? He went through loss like what you’re going through right now and he got up and tried again. Lean on the support you have, Lance. I should hope if anything happened to Allura, I’d be able to come to you.”</p><p>“Tell Allura I said thanks, for everything.” </p><p>“I will.” Shiro promises, but he doesn’t move to leave. His hand lingers on Lance’s shoulder, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with it. Finally, he takes a deep breath. “Keith was a good kid. I’m sorry about what I said to him in the beginning. Losing Adam was the worst thing to ever happen to me, as I’m sure you understand now. I thought if there was any way I could keep him from going through what I went through, it was my duty to try. Losing both your mage and your lover in one… it’s a living nightmare.”</p><p>“Trust me, I know.” Lance somehow manages to say around the lump in his throat, with difficulty. He doesn’t really want to be having this conversation right now, it still feels too soon, the loss too raw.</p><p>“But I was wrong to say he’d never mean the same to you as you meant to him. It goes both ways and I was disrespecting Adam’s memory to imply he didn’t feel the same for me. Even with how badly it hurt, I know if I had the chance to do it all over again I would be a fool to pass up on it, just as Keith would’ve been a fool to pass up on his chance with you. I’m glad you had the time together that you did.”</p><p>“Thanks, Shiro.” It’s bittersweet, but he thinks he understands why Shiro is telling this to him now, why it feels so urgent to share. There’s a lesson there somewhere, once he’s ready to hear it. Right now he just wants to be alone with his miserable thoughts, he’s not quite ready to start moving on, he’s barely even processed the loss yet.</p><p>“I should go.” Shiro announces then, looking back to the sky. He’s quick to leave then, not really one for emotional or heartfelt goodbyes. And Lance gets the feeling that he’s upset too, after more or less taking Keith under his wing and helping him grow. They’re just not in a place to talk about it.</p><p>Lance isn’t sure he wants to talk at all, even still, but Shiro had more or less dropped him off on his mother’s front step and he can’t find the energy to walk all the way back to his cottage when all he wants to do is curl up in bed and forget any of it ever happened. It’s… easier, to just knock on the door and wait on his mama to come comfort him like she has so many times before.</p><p>It’s not long at all before his mother is wrenching the door open, looking sleep-muddled and wary. She relaxes only slightly upon seeing Lance’s face. She does the opposite of relax when she notices the state he’s in. He watches her eyes go wide with horror and immediately knows he’s gonna be in for the smothering of a lifetime. Does he really look that roughed-up? He hadn’t been paying his injuries any attention at all, too distracted by the internal pain.</p><p>“Lance? Are you alright?!” The panic in his mother’s voice is unmistakable as she rushes outside to see him, doing a quick once-over of his disheveled appearance to check for injuries. He knows that there’s a few of them, but if someone asked him to he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint them when the ache in his chest feels so much stronger. He barely even notices the scrapes and bruises by comparison. He watches as his mama seems to realize that, gaze softening as she steps back to look him in the eye again. “What’s wrong, Mijo?”</p><p>“It’s Keith.” Lance chokes out, and the name alone is enough to shatter all the hard work he’d put into building walls to hold himself together. He breaks down all at once, splinters apart, until he’s staggering forward into his mother’s chest and collapsing into her in a fit of sobs. She holds him close, as close as she can, squeezes him tightly like she might be able to force all his broken pieces back together, but it’s a useless effort. He still feels less than whole.</p><p>“What <em> about </em>Keith? What did he do?”</p><p>“Dead.” Lance blurts, the truth bubbling up whether he’s ready to share it or not. “He’s dead.”</p><p>His mother gasps softly above him, but she quickly reels her reaction in with a deep breath. When she speaks again, she’s the picture of composure, a steady and sure shoulder for him to lean on with how unstable he feels. He smiles at her through his tears, mopping them away as they continue to spill.</p><p>“What happened?” She asks, leaning in close. He takes one look at her and starts to cry that much harder, knowing that he has to tell her the truth if he wants her to fully understand. As much as it’s going to suck, he needs her right now, isn’t sure he can get by on his own like he’d been planning to.</p><p>“You were dying. I did what I had to do.” Lance starts, closing his eyes as he reaches down and lifts his shirt to show off the mark. She sucks in a breath and doesn’t exhale it, eyes wide with astonishment, growing wetter with every passing second. “My life for yours, an even trade.”</p><p>“Lance, you <em> didn’t </em>.” She mumbles, disbelieving. Lance doesn’t know what to say so he simply hangs his head low, shame coursing through him strong enough to momentarily pause the tears. “Oh, you foolish selfless boy, why would you do that?”</p><p>“I had to. You’re the heart of our family, we wouldn’t be able to go on without you. But me? I’m the black sheep, literally now, I don’t offer anything to the others. It wouldn’t matter if I was gone.”</p><p>“That’s not true and you know it’s not, Lance McClain.” She interrupts, her tone firm. That’s an argument he’s not ready to get into right now so he just shrugs her off, literally, and takes a step back from her hug so he can think straight as he continues his story. He has to get it all out in the open before they can hope to move forward, not that he’s anywhere near ready to.</p><p>“I realized how upset you’d be if something happened to me though, when you gave us that lecture and told us that you’d die of a broken heart if any of your children died before you. S-So I… I did the only thing I could think to do that might protect me from the hellhounds. I got a familiar that would be strong enough to fight them off.” Lance swallows hard, closing his eyes tight as the memories rush back of the day he’d first met Keith and all that’d happened since. It’s hard to believe now that there was ever a time when he didn’t expect to get attached. “I didn’t summon him, Mama, I-”</p><p>“I know, Lance.” She says, as sweetly as she possibly can, her eyes soft with understanding. None of the anger he’d been expecting to see is present, there is no disappointment, only fondness like his effort to keep the secret had been endearing, though useless. “I knew the moment you brought him home.”</p><p>“<em> How </em>?”</p><p>“I saw the damaged feathers and the scars, I’ve got a closer eye than you seem to think.” His mother explains with that knowing look, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face and get a proper look at him. He blinks up at her, tears still caught in his eyelashes. “Now, tell me what happened<em> tonight </em>. That’s what I want to know. Can you do that?”</p><p>“When the hellhounds came, he protected me. He was doing a good job, he killed so many of them, but they wouldn’t stop coming. They seemed endless. Slowly but surely, they were overpowering him. I didn’t know what to do so I… I used my magic for the first time since the black magic incident. It was so different than how my magic used to be, you wouldn’t believe it. I know this sounds horrible, but it was like I’d found the missing piece, the thing that was holding me back all this time. All the hounds bowed to me, they listened to my every command.”</p><p>“What went wrong?”</p><p>“Keith’s past came back to haunt him.” Lance says, looking down at his feet as he thinks about the first moment he’d laid eyes on Zarkon. If nothing else, the silver lining of this entire situation was that he’d never be able to hurt anyone ever again. He’d never be able to take a loved one away from anyone. No one would have to go through what Keith went through, what Lance is going through now. “Even with Allura and Shiro’s help, even with the hellhounds on our side… it was clear right from the start that we were overpowered. We didn’t know what to do, so I suggested that we combine our magic, you know, like a proper mage and familiar.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And it worked!” Lance laughs, more than a little breathlessly. Then he immediately winces, feeling somehow that laughing is disrespectful to the grief in his chest. He doesn’t want to make light of the situation, he wants to feel his feelings to their fullest degree. It’s what Keith deserves. “Too well. It worked too well. The entire clearing lit up in flame, everywhere but where I was standing, and the weird part was I didn’t even<em> feel </em>the heat. Shiro barely had time to save Allura and fly her to safety. Keith charged right into the flames to fight the bastard and make sure he’d truly died, and I didn’t think anything of it. He’s a phoenix, I’ve seen him walk through fire before. How was I supposed to know this fire was different?!”</p><p>“He… never came back?” His mother asks, like she’s still trying to wrap her head around it. Lance knows that she means well, that she’s only trying to understand so she can better comfort him, but lingering on this moment in the story in particular is the last thing he wanted. It’s painful. “Are you sure he’s dead?”</p><p>“I saw the body, it was mostly ash, but the wings were unmistakable.” Lance admits, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his palms, feeling the bite of crescent-moon indents digging in. He isn’t looking at her directly now, doesn’t want her to have to bear witness to the way he’s falling apart, expression crumbling, heart gaining another crack all over again as he recalls the horrible moment he’d realized that Keith was really gone. </p><p>“You’re<em> certain </em>?” Lance blinks. He furrows his eyebrows together. He tries desperately to make sense of the question and why the hell she’d ask it. Only, he can’t think of a single situation where it’d be an acceptable response to what he’d just shared. The amount of skepticism in her voice is cruel.</p><p>“Of course I’m certain!” Lance explodes, his numb indifference suddenly giving way to blind and burning anger. He throws his hands up, glaring at her, disbelieving that she’d really try to doubt him right now. Of course he knows. He may not have summoned Keith, but Keith was still his familiar. They were one, in more ways than one, of course he was certain. “I felt it in my own chest when it happened, Mama, our magic was connected! He was <em> my </em>familiar!”</p><p>“I believe you, I do, but-”</p><p>“But what? What is there to doubt? Do you think I’m stupid?”</p><p>“Turn around.” She says, gently, her smile finally breaking out across her face fully. Lance can’t help but feel like he’s being mocked, but he reluctantly does what she says and turns around. He’s not sure what he expects to see, but the utter lack of anything is both confusing and disappointing. The space behind him is as empty as he remembered it being, they’re still alone out here.</p><p>“I don’t-”</p><p>“<em> Look up </em>.” She amends, before he can even fully voice his frustration. Slowly, ever so slowly, he drags his gaze up the length of the nearby trees. He’s still not sure what he’s expecting, but he knows what he wants to see… no matter how impossible it may be. He wants it so feverishly that he feels like he’ll die without, if Keith doesn’t miraculously appear before him, unharmed and alive and-</p><p>And perched at the top of the tree in his full phoenix form, wings spread wide and head cocked playfully to the side. It takes Lance a moment to recognize that there’s no way his imagination is this vivid, even a hallucination wouldn’t be. He really truly is staring at Keith, and Keith is staring back at him. Alive. </p><p>Against the backdrop of the night sky, Keith looks like a flame, his wings burning bright and bold and his tail feathers smoldering just the same where they dip down low beneath the branch. He’s huge in this form, as big as ten eagles put together, and Lance is sure he wasn’t quite that intimidating during the battle. He didn’t have much time to admire, but surely he would have noticed if Keith was that massive.</p><p>His mother’s hand settles on his shoulder, rubbing at it, bringing him back to the moment and shaking him out of his stupor. “He looks pretty alive to me.”</p><p>Keith’s alive.</p><p>Keith is alive.</p><p>“Keith!” Lance screams, uncaring if he wakes his entire family, or the entire neighborhood for that matter. He launches himself forward, running full speed across the yard, only now does he notice the way his entire body seems to ache with every step, and even that’s not enough to slow him. He’s about halfway to the base of the tree when Keith sweeps down to meet him, wings spread wide, an effortless glide from thirty feet in the air to the ground. Lance barrels right into him and shoves his face into the soft feathers of his chest. He’s breathless, the tears back again, as he desperately plasters himself to Keith and vows to never let go again. “You’re okay! You’re really okay!”</p><p>Lance never wants to let him go, and he has no intention of doing so, so when Keith transforms back into his other form and suddenly becomes so much smaller in Lance’s arms, he’s there for every second of the process. Feeling feathers disappear only to be replaced by soft skin, he’s revenant as he runs his hands over Keith everywhere he can reach. Bizarrely, Keith isn’t even wounded or burnt after the battle. </p><p>Come to think of it, he doesn’t even have his<em> scars </em>anymore.</p><p>“Better than okay. Did you see that? I have my wings back!” Keith blurts the very moment his mouth is capable of forming words again, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and picking him up into the air without any strain at all. Lance giggles uncontrollably, slinging his arms around Keith’s neck, and holds on for dear life as he’s spun around and around, until they’re both collapsing into the grass.</p><p>Keith’s back hits the ground and Lance sits up on top of him, placing a hand one either side of his chest and pinning him to the spot. Not that Keith couldn’t overpower him if he tried, but he won’t, not when he sees the look of determination on Lance’s face. He wants<em> answers </em>.</p><p>“Where the hell did you go?! I saw your body, Keith! I thought you were dead!” For emphasis, Lance lands a flimsy playful smack to his shoulder, to really drive home his point. If there was any way Keith could have spared him that horrific experience, then he absolutely should have. </p><p>“Ow! I was!” Keith laughs, squirming around beneath him. That has Lance pausing where he’d been about to resort to the ultimate torture tool of digging his fingers into Keith’s ribs and tickling him. Now though, he sits atop Keith with a perplexed expression, waiting on him to offer answers. Keith slowly sits up and Lance slides back to settle in his lap, face to face with him. “For a moment there, yeah, I was actually dead. Then I rose from my own ashes, I was born again as a newer, stronger version of myself. That’s what phoenixes <em> do </em> . When we go out in a blaze of glory in our own flame, we <em> come back. </em>”</p><p>“You could have informed me!” Lance shrieks, grabbing ahold of his shoulders and shaking him. Keith laughs all the while, tipping his head back to stare up at the night sky, grinning in that infuriatingly attractive way he always does that could (and does) light up an entire room. Speaking of which, Lance leans to the side and pulls one of his wings closer, marveling at the long feathers draped across the bottoms of them. </p><p>“I figured you knew!” Keith says finally, then softer, “I thought you<em> knew </em>.”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t!” Lance tells him, grabbing hold of his jaw instead and yanking him forcibly closer. He goes willingly, without a hint of protest, even leans into it until their foreheads are pressed together. Lance exhales softly, shakily, and this time he finds it’s a laugh rather than a sob, despite the fact tears are starting to trail down his cheeks again. “I should have stayed. I should have been there for you.”</p><p>“You didn’t know.” Keith reminds him, nuzzling closer and nosing along his cheek, leaving fleeting kisses in his wake all along Lance’s jaw. Lance sighs, letting one hand slip behind Keith’s head, threading instead through the messy mane of hair there. He tightens his grip, forcibly pulling Keith back when he veers dangerously close to biting territory, nestled deep in the curve of Lance’s neck. “What?”</p><p>“What do you <em> think </em>?” Lance hisses, eyes darting to the side.</p><p>His mother is standing by exactly where he’d left her, looking on with relief and happiness written all across his features, and as much as Lance appreciates her support… he doesn’t want her watching the two of them when Keith gets like this.</p><p>“You two seem a lot closer than you were when you left.” She comments wryly, just a hint of a smirk on her lips. Beside him, Keith at least has the decency to keep himself covered with his wings, for Lance’s sake given he’s never had any hang-ups about nudity before. “Is there something <em> else </em>you should be telling me, Lance?”</p><p>Lance’s throat feels inexplicably dry.</p><p>“Mama, I can explain, I-”</p><p>“Don’t bother.” She tells him then, all pretenses falling away and making room for her genuine smile, wide and unabashed. Lance grins back at her. “Another mage’s bond with their familiar has nothing to do with me. I’m just happy you’re both alright and it’s all behind us now. <em> Right </em>?”</p><p>“Right.” Lance confirms with a nod. And he figures that’ll be the end of it, that she’ll excuse herself back into the house and give them the obviously much-needed privacy they’re after, but she lingers a moment longer. She steps closer, but when Lance expects to be pulled into a hug, she instead places a hand on Keith’s shoulder and gives him a firm squeeze. Keith’s eyes go wide in shock.</p><p>“Take care of him and don’t you ever let him do something as stupid as what he did for me again.”</p><p>“I won’t.” Keith promises hurriedly, like if he doesn’t respond fast enough she won’t believe him. She lifts one skeptical eyebrow but he repeats himself with even more passion, and then she lets him off the hook. With a final parting wave to Lance, and a teasing comment about not doing anything she wouldn’t do (gross), she disappears back into her home and leaves them standing on her front steps.</p><p>A grand total of ten seconds pass before Lance is spinning around and tackling Keith again, launching at him and feeling a wave of happiness when Keith effortlessly catches him. He wraps himself around him, hugs him tighter for all the minutes he’d thought he’d never get the chance again. He couldn’t fight the smile from his face if he tried. “Hey, you should be careful, you’re probably still sore from the-”</p><p>“Let’s go home.” Lance interrupts him, pulling back so they can look each other in the eyes. Keith seems amused by whatever manner of emotion is displayed on Lance’s face, but the longer he looks the more the grinning smile gives way to a softer, smaller level of awe. He licks his lips and Keith’s eyes track the movement with a single-minded amount of focus. Lance leans in, as if to kiss him, and instead leaves him waiting at the last second to whisper to him instead. “Home, Keith, our home. Your home. We’ll have all the privacy in the world in your nest. No one to interrupt us <em> at all </em>.”</p><p>If Keith nearly drops him in his rush to turn around and make haste for home, well, no one’s around to see it at least… except for Lance, who absolutely laughs his ass off and teases him relentlessly.</p><p>--</p><p>They stumble through the door to Lance’s cottage already tangled up in each other, despite their best efforts to keep their hands off until they were behind closed doors again. It was inevitable, with the adrenaline still coursing through them, the relief at being united, the excitement at finally being alone together. They’re greedy with it right from the start, drawn to each other with a magnitude that neither one can fight.</p><p>Keith presses Lance up against his own front door and gets a thigh between his legs, rocking against him with a feverish pace. And Lance responds in kind by digging his nails into his shoulders, hastily trying to pull him closer, to press their bodies so tightly together that there’s no telling where one begins and the other ends. Keith’s wings blanket them on either side, bigger than ever before, and the world feels narrowed down to just the two of them.</p><p>“Fuck, Keith. I thought we’d never get to <em> do this </em>.”</p><p>“I’ve waited so long for this, you really think I’d let myself die just before I got to have you?” Keith scoffs, ducking his head to kiss across Lance’s collarbones, all teeth and tongue, clashing and clumsy with the urgency growing between them. Lance finds himself tugging his shirt over his head in the same instant that Keith tears open the tie of his pants, pushing them down over narrow hips and leaving them to pool unceremoniously on the floor. No sooner have they hit the ground than is Keith scooping him and picking up where they’d left off, crashing their lips together.</p><p>The journey to the bedroom feels longer than usual, both due to the anticipation and the fact they’re stopping to make out against every solid surface. Either way, more than once Lance forgets that they even have a destination in mind, and it’s not until he finds himself literally tossed into the center of the nest that he realizes Keith had his sights on the goal all along.</p><p>He bounces when he hits the mattress and then settles back against the side of the nest, making room as Keith climbs in after him. He pounces on Lance again and Lance giggles as he falls back into the laundry, Keith’s mouth descending upon his neck, those strong hands pinning his wrists above his head so he’s helpless to do much other than squirm as Keith has his way with him.</p><p>“I’m gonna make you scream for every <em> single </em>fucking time we had to keep quiet.” Keith promises, crowding closer and fitting his body between Lance’s widespread legs. This time around there’s no coaxing necessary, there are no clothes in the way and Lance can already feel the firm outline of Keith’s cock slotted up against his, throbbing with need. He whines and arches up into it, looks down between them to watch the way their bodies move together. </p><p>The slick slide of Keith’s cock against his is tempting enough, but it’s made worse when the head of Lance’s cock catches on the slit at Keith’s base and threatens to push inside with the barest amount of pressure. He moans and bucks his hips without thinking and Keith responds in kind by growling at him, hands settling on his hips and forcibly flipping him over. </p><p>“Keith! Stop teasing and give it to me!” Lance lands on his stomach, but Keith is quick to grab at his hips and forcibly lift them up, until Lance is face-down ass-up and once again left at his mercy. He doesn’t miss the way that one of Keith’s hands stays gripping his wrists together, pinning them at the small of his back. Lance squirms, equal parts nervousness and excitement. He trusts Keith unabashedly, knows that he’d never hurt him, but this is all so new.</p><p>He doesn’t have time to get fully panicked though, before Keith’s free hand comes down against his bare ass cheek with a resounding slap. Lance’s breath catches in his throat and he goes completely still, eyes wide, cock blurting a pathetic amount of pre-cum across the sheets beneath him. It takes everything in him not to rut down against them and chase the friction he so badly needs right now.</p><p>“You have to stay still for me, Lance.” Keith reminds him, running his hands over Lance’s ass, gentle now as they smooth over his skin where it’s still stinging from the last hit. Lance all but melts into the mattress, pressing back into Keith’s palm and all but begging to be hit again. Only Keith doesn’t, instead leaning down behind him to press a kiss to the base of his tailbone. “Just until I get you ready to take me, then you can climb on top and ride me for all I care. I just don’t want to hurt you.”</p><p>“I know.” Lance nods, looking back over his shoulder at him. Keith looks worse off than he is by far, eyes dark with lust, wings a bloody deep shade of red that Lance has come to associate specifically with sex, and for all intents and purposes looking like he’s holding his self-control by a thread. Lance answers him quickly now, knowing that they only have so much time before the tension snaps again. “I have lube. In the bedside drawer.”</p><p>“You’ve done this to yourself before?” Keith asks curiously, reaching over to dig out the small bottle Lance has stashed away. It’s still mostly full, so maybe that answers Keith’s question in itself, but he decides to be more honest about it.</p><p>“A couple times. Always felt weird. I couldn’t understand the appeal.” Lance admits, but he doesn’t shy away as Keith brings his thoroughly-coated slick fingers to the pucker between his cheeks. He just braces himself, already prepared to not like this part. And he’s not wrong, it feels about the same as it always does when Keith’s slicked finger breaches him for the first time. It’s not magically less uncomfortable just because it’s someone else doing it to him. He’s not sure if it’s a relief to know he hasn’t been doing it wrong all this time, or if it’s a disappoint to think that it’ll never feel good for him no matter who he does this w-</p><p>The second finger Keith slips inside of him stretches him that much wider, but he hardly notices the strain against the ring of muscle, distracted by the stars bursting behind his eyelids when Keith hitches those fingers downward. It’s just the simplest crook, a come-hither gesture inside of him, and Lance’s entire body feels alight with arousal. His cock jumps where it’s pressed between the bed and his stomach. </p><p>“Wh-”</p><p>“<em> That </em> , is your prostate.” Keith informs him matter-of-factly, that smugness back in his tone. Lance has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, mostly because even if he committed to it he’s not sure he’d be able to pull it off with Keith’s fingers staging a brutal assault on that newly-discovered sensitive spot inside of him. Over and over again Keith presses against it, until Lance is left wondering if he could come from that alone. It feels entirely different from getting off with his cock, but it’s definitely building toward some kind of precipice the longer Keith keeps toying with him. “And if you think that felt good, wait until I show you <em> this </em>.”</p><p>Those are certainly big words to live up to, especially when Keith slips his fingers free and Lance is left feeling inexplicably empty. Somehow, it feels more uncomfortable to be without Keith’s fingers than with, and he isn’t even sure when that change happened. He’s also fairly certain Keith had four fingers inside of him and he’d barely even noticed him adding the last two, the stretch only a fleeting sensation compared to the dizzying pleasure of Keith crooking said fingers just right inside of him and making him fall apart.</p><p>Anyway, the point is, Lance isn’t sure anything <em> can </em> feel better than Keith’s skilled fingers taking him apart… right up until he feels his tongue dart across his rim instead where it’s twitching needily around nothing. <em> That </em>garners Keith the first of the many screams he’d been determined to earn tonight. Lance has never made a noise quite like he makes when Keith spreads him wide on two fingers and then delves his tongue between them, licking inside of him with confident strokes like he’s done it a hundred times before.</p><p>Lance feels like he’s run a marathon and Keith hasn’t even gotten inside of him yet.</p><p>By the time Keith finally does pull away, Lance feels boneless and alive with energy in one. He’s never been pleasured so thoroughly in his entire life, but he still hasn’t come. He understands why when Keith gives him a gentle tap on the flank, coaxing him back up onto his knees from whatever position he’d collapsed into while Keith was eating him out with such dedicated fervor.</p><p>“Spread your legs, plant your knees.” Keith directs him more plainly now, when Lance doesn’t inherently know what he’s looking for. Lance listens obediently and picks himself up, as shaky and unstable as his legs feel beneath him. He feels Keith’s wings crowd around him before any other part of him so much as brushes against his skin, and Lance feels nothing but secure engulfed by them, even as his mind starts to run wild with the possibilities as he ponders the position they’re in. </p><p>When Keith speaks, he’s near Lance’s ear, accompanies his words with a series of kisses littered across his shoulder to reassure him. Lance jumps when he feels the first press of Keith’s cockhead against his rim, no real intent behind it yet, just a precursor to what’s coming. “You’re ready for me, angel, gonna give you what you really need.” </p><p>“Are you sure I’m ready? I don’t know-”</p><p>“Hey, look at me, Lance.” Keith prompts and Lance doesn’t even hesitate to look back over his shoulder, heart a fluttering flighty thing in his chest. Keith is leaning over him from behind, using his wings for support, hands busy where they’re lost down between their bodies helping him to line up and hold Lance steady. But for now, his attention is all on Lance’s face, making direct and earnest eye contact. “If it hurts at all, I’ll stop. I’m not trying to rush you into this, if you need more time we can take a break, or stop altogether. You’re as stretched as you’re gonna get though, fumbling around with my fingers will just make you over-sensitive at this point. You’ll finish before I get anywhere near you.” </p><p>“I want it. Just… go slow at first.” Lance knows even as he says it that he’s making a useless request, that Keith definitely planned on going slow, on being so painstakingly careful with him that by the end of it it’d be only annoying rather than reassuring. But Keith doesn’t ridicule him for it or even smirk knowingly at his lack of experience, he just smiles a genuine smile and nods his head.</p><p>After that, Lance buries his face back into his arms and pushes his ass that much higher, trying to hold the unrealistic position under the assumption that it’d make things easier for Keith, or at least easier on him. Keith does chuckle then, but it’s fond, bordering on adoring. He wordlessly pushes Lance back into a more stable, balanced position and directs him to just let it come to him naturally once they’d actually gotten started. In the meantime, Lance is directed to once again stay still.</p><p>He hates that request, it’s the one he’s always struggled most with.</p><p>Still, he tries his best, and Keith rewards him by shuffling closer again and rubbing the head of his cock through the mess of lube between Lance’s cheeks. He gives Lance plenty of time to back out again, so much time in fact that Lance has to ignore the warning to stay still to shake his hips from side to side a little, enticing him. At which point Keith finally, finally, starts to push his cock inside of him.</p><p>Lance stifles a whimper into the crook of his elbow, tensing up completely against the dull ache of the stretch, met with the belated realization that Keith’s cock has got to be wider than four fingers. He grits his teeth together and inhales sharply, then exhales just as quickly, and then inhales again, and-</p><p>“It’s not gonna feel good if you tense up your entire body like I’m stabbing you.” Keith’s voice cuts through Lance’s spiralling thoughts, filled with affection and care. Keith gives the flesh of his hip a squeeze and then stops before he’s buried even halfway inside of Lance. And as the seconds pass, the pain starts to give way to discomfort, and then eventually just nothing. It’s not the mind-blowing pleasure Lance had been expecting, but it’s not terrible, so he lets Keith pick up where he left off and push inside a little bit further.</p><p>… Only to tense up all over again the moment the stretch starts to feel like too much. Keith sighs in frustration and starts to pull back at that point, which Lance protests loudly and desperately, trying to struggle free from Keith’s hold on his wrists so he can reach back and stop him. “Lance, I can’t fuck you if you’re making an active effort to keep me from moving. You gotta<em> relax </em>.”</p><p>“I’m trying to!” Lance insists, and to emphasize his point he makes a very active effort not to keep Keith from moving. Instead, he tries to push back against him and take him deeper. That’s… admittedly, a terrible idea. The first genuine pain shoots through him at that and he yelps, trying to scramble forward and definitely about to make things worse for himself, when Keith lands a hand in the center of his back and pins him to the spot.</p><p>“Stay still, Lance. I mean it.” Keith growls out, finality behind his words. “I’m bigger than the average human and this is your first time, it’s gonna take a little bit more to work you open to the point you can take all of me. Don’t get impatient, you’ll hurt yourself.”</p><p>Well, not that Lance had much choice in the matter, given Keith has him pinned.</p><p>So he stays exactly where he is, tries not to move a single muscle. A full minute or two must pass before Keith finally, finally moves. Only he doesn’t push in deeper, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside and Lance would definitely be protesting… only he’s left speechless by the drag of Keith’s cock against his inner walls as he pulls back. It doesn’t feel bad at all, it feels… good.</p><p>When Keith pushes back in again, there’s even more lube slicking his cock, so much that Lance can feel it obscenely smearing between their bodies, making a sticky mess of their skin. But, it does it’s job, and Keith’s first push back into his heat has him sinking in deeper than ever before, with very little of the accompanying stretch. It’s easier in general, and Lance finds himself finally relaxing, finally starting to understand how exactly it’s gonna feel good for him. He’d known it would, in theory, but it’s something else to experience the barest hints of it in practice. He wants<em> more </em>.</p><p>“Come on, baby, open up. Gonna feel so tight around my cock, so lucky to be your first.” Keith starts to coax him then, gentle words of praise and encouragement that shoot straight to Lance’s cock. At one point it’d been starting to soften, but now it’s standing at attention again, hard and flushed where it hangs between his widespread legs. Lance closes his eyes and puts a conscious effort into relaxing, focusing on the pleasant drag of Keith’s cockhead inside of him, bullying it’s way deeper and deeper, until at some point Lance realizes he’s managed to take all of it. Way more than he’d ever managed to fit into his mouth.</p><p>When Lance tries to get a glimpse between their bodies to see how he’s actually taking Keith to the hilt, his gaze catches Keith's dark stare and the moment stretches on. Slowly, Keith’s lips curl up into a smile, and he releases one of Lance’s hands to drag it down between them. Lance’s fingertips brush against his own rim, where it’s pulled taut and stretched wide around Keith’s cock. Fuck. “You’re taking me so well, baby, feel so good. I wanna make you feel good now. Can I go faster?”</p><p>Lance is more than eager to feel good, so he nods his head. Keith’s grin turns wolfish then.</p><p>When Keith starts to actually fuck him, with calculated and purposeful thrusts rather than just a clumsy absentminded grind against him… Lance might collapse face-first into the mattress. Whatever, it’s Keith’s fault for not catching him, he’s the one with a grip around his wrists that keeps him from picking himself back up. As it is, Lance simply stays where he falls, slack-jawed and gasping punched-out noises each time Keith bottoms out inside of him and he’s forced to feel the sheer massive size of his cock filling him so fully.</p><p>“Holy shit.”</p><p>“Does it hurt? It’s not too much, is it?” Keith asks between heaving breaths, hands skirting all over Lance’s body in search of leverage, any grip with which to haul him bodily back against Keith’s cock, over and over again. Lance doesn’t trust himself to answer without interrupting himself with countless screams and moans, and he refuses to give Keith<em> that </em>satisfaction. </p><p>So, he simply nods his head. Or tries to, but even that gives him away when Keith bucks his hips and drives his cock in hard in the same instant. Lance moans like a cheap whore and pushes back against him, arching his back however feels right now that they’re <em> actually </em> fucking, just how Keith had advised him to. And the slight shift in angle makes all the difference when Keith thrusts inside again and hits his prostate dead-on with the broad head of his cock.</p><p>Lance cries out like he’s<em> dying for it </em>and then immediately starts to rock back against him, chasing his own pleasure. Keith laughs at that, giving his ass another little smack, like he’s picked up on Lance’s reactions to it despite his best efforts to hide them. And then he starts to really give it to him. He grabs one of Lance’s legs and hauls it up high in the air. Lance yelps as he’s yanked forward, held open wide, and Keith fits one of his legs over his shoulder while the other stays flat to the bed. Completely on display, nothing at all left to the imagination as Keith looks him over.</p><p>“N-No. It’s embarrassing!” Lance whines, hiding his face in his hands. With the new position, Lance has no leverage at all to set the pace, but Keith is happy to accommodate him now. He fucks Lance in shallow, fast thrusts that hit all the right places inside of him. The slap of skin against skin fills the room as Keith ruts inside of him quick and hard. And Lance forgets any protest he’d been planning on making, because it feels so damn good, he doesn’t care if it’s embarrassing to be spread out like a meal to be devoured. Keith can <em> have him </em> if he just keeps making him feel like this.</p><p>“Can you feel me inside of you? Stretching you out?” Keith asks a while later, grabbing Lance’s hand and pressing it to his own abdomen. Sure enough, each time Keith bottoms out inside of him, Lance feels it from the outside as his stomach holds the shape of Keith’s cock for all of a second before he’s disappearing again. Over and over again, he feels Keith’s cock distend his stomach, and it’s all he can do to hold his legs open and take it. “Tell me.”</p><p>“Yes, fuck, it’s <em> so much </em>.”</p><p>“Too much? Want to go back to our last position?” Keith asks, and it’s the first time Lance feels compelled to agree that it’s too much for him. His leg is aching from the angle, his guts starting to feel sore after Keith’s cock ramming up against them for so long, and in general it still sends a shiver of bashfulness being spread eagle in front of Keith . </p><p>As soon as they’ve rearranged with Lance on all fours and Keith once again fucking him from behind, Keith’s hips pick back up at that same brutal jackhammer pace, pinning him in place so he’s forced to do nothing but feel it as Keith’s cock plows into him relentlessly. He feels every inch of the drag against his inner walls with every thrust, is still silently amazed that it fits at all, let alone <em> feels good </em>. “What a good little bitch. Made to take cock. And you’re all mine. Aren’t you, Lance?”</p><p>“Y-Yours.” Lance agrees, nodding his head eagerly.</p><p>“Gonna claim you so thoroughly no one else will dare to lay a hand on you, and no other cock will ever satisfy you like mine. You’re gonna be my bitch. Made for keeping on your hands and knees in my nest, ready and willing to take my load.”</p><p>“Ah, hnn, fuck.” Lance moans steadily losing coherency the more Keith mutters filthy things in his ear, dripping with intent, fiery with passion and desire. Lance is weak to it. “I’m<em> close </em>.”</p><p>“Yeah? You getting off on the thought of being addicted to phoenix cock?” Keith taunts playfully, giving his ass a smack, and Lance rocks back against him with a clumsy eagerness that must be endearing given Keith’s answering laughter. “Wanna be bred so badly, don’t you? If you think you’re desperate for it now, just wait, you don’t know the half of what I’m gonna do to you. By the time I’m done, you’re gonna want a cock inside of you <em> all </em> the time, you won’t be able to get enough of it.”</p><p>“I’m close.” Lance says, gasping it out on his next shaky exhale. “Touch me, please, touch m-”</p><p>“You’ll come untouched on my cock or you won’t come at all.” Keith snarls, and in his oversensitized and overwhelmed state, it’s the worst thing that Lance has <em> ever </em> heard. He chokes around a sob but nods his head obediently, already feeling the beginning of his orgasm climbing. He thinks, anyway. He hopes. He really hopes that it’s an actual thing he’s capable of and Keith isn’t just torturing him with no release in sight. </p><p>Keith doesn’t relent in the slightest to accommodate Lance's state, if anything he grows more aggressive in the way he fucks. Lance recognizes it for what it is eventually though, when Keith’s rushed and brutal thrusts become languid and calculated, drawn out like he’s intent on savoring every second of it. It’s all Lance can do not to cry as Keith comes to a stop and drapes himself over Lance’s back, teeth digging into the meat of his shoulder, hips pressed flush to Lance’s ass as he presses his cock inside as deep as he can. </p><p>Lance feels it when Keith starts to spill inside of him, not so much the weight of it, but the <em> heat </em>. If it were any warmer at all, Lance is sure that it’d be painful, but as it is it’s just uncomfortable enough to keep him infuriatingly aware of it all. Aware of every pulse of cum Keith shoots deep inside of him, of every hitch of his breath against his shoulder as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, every subtle rock and shift of his hips that has his cock grazing across Lance’s prostate with none of the steady pressure he needs.</p><p>Lance starts to squirm early on, impatient to reach his own high when he’s teetering on the edge, so very close to it. If only Keith would move with purpose again instead of just using him as a cumdump, he’s sure it’d only take a few thrusts, he’s so fucking close he can taste it. He’s never came untouched before but this has to be it, his muscles all tensing and relaxing repeatedly, so damn sensitive that if Keith doesn’t let him come soon he swears he’s going to push him over and ride him to completion.</p><p>“Shh, you can take it, I know you can.” Keith says suddenly, as if sensing his antsy thoughts. Lance has a few choice words to say back to him in his current riled state, but they’re all forgotten when Keith’s hand comes around again to settle on Lance’s stomach where the head of his cock had been distending it with each thrust before. Now, there’s a noticeable pouch to it that Lance is fairly certain he isn’t imagining, and there can only really be one reason for it. “You’re my perfect mate, my sweet little breeding bitch, take my seed so well. Look how full you are, how well I bred you.” </p><p>“Keith!” Lance cries out in shock, as Keith gives a handful of brutal thrusts, hard enough that his hipbones colliding with the meat of Lance’s ass actually <em> hurt </em>. Only, the pain takes a backseat to the relief at finally getting fucked again, now with the added slickness aiding the way as Keith fucks his sloppy hole looser yet. But it’s everything Lance needed, that final push he’d been waiting on to get him there, and he crashes into his first-ever prostate orgasm with about as much grace as can be expected for someone so cruelly edged through the entire duration of their first time.</p><p>It’s startlingly similar and entirely different than the orgasms he’s been having his entire life. It feels like it stems from somewhere much deeper inside of him and he feels it through his entire body, until his legs and arms are collapsing beneath him when pleasure causes them to lose their strength. Keith collapses with him, still draped over his back, still making sure to keep his cock pressed as deep inside of him as it can realistically fit. His wings stretch out behind him for balance before once again falling around them, engulfing them in a dark, safe space all of their own.</p><p>As Lance trembles his way through the aftershocks of what might have been the best orgasm of his life, Keith starts up that crackling purr again, low in his chest, and Lance can feel it in his own chest with Keith pressed up so tightly to the entire length of his back. Lance wants nothing more than to roll over and go to sleep, exhausted as he is, but that doesn’t seem to be an option. Keith still has him pinned in place and every time he so much as moves to readjust, Keith drives his cock into him again to keep it buried deep, only now the brutal thrusts are painful rather than relieving.</p><p>“How do you feel?” Keith asks after they both have a moment to catch their breath. Lance can’t help but laugh at the question. He’s not sure of the answer himself. Only that he’s already dying to do it all over again, as soon as he’s confident his body can physically handle another round.</p><p>“Full.” Lance answers through his teeth. “So fucking full, you bastard. You could have warned me about this particular phoenix trivia fact too, for the record. It’s gonna make such a<em> mess </em> when you pull out.”</p><p>“Then I’ll just have to stay where I am.”</p><p>“Like fuck you will. I’m gonna be sore enough after this as it is.”</p><p>“I know, I’ll clean you. I’ll take care of you.” Keith assures him then, peppering kisses across his back, following the line of his spine with his lips as far down as their position will allow. There, he pauses, and exhales deeply, like he’s concentrating hard. Lance tenses in uncertainty. “For now, you just relax and stay still, I’m not done yet.”</p><p>“Not fucking done yet?! What do you m-”</p><p>“Shh. I’m not gonna fuck you again, I only meant that I’m not done coming. I won’t move, your body will do the work for me now.” Keith assures him hurriedly, like that’s somehow supposed to relieve him when the fact of the matter is he’s not gonna get any reprieve from the fullness in his gut any time soon. He whines pathetically and slumps into the pillows, deciding to simply say fuck it and go along with whatever Keith claimed to need. He even arches his back just like Keith taught him, through the haze of his exhaustion. Keith’s purring grows louder at that, plainly pleased. “That’s it. Good boy. Hold your hips up, keep it all inside. Just like that.”</p><p>Lance drifts in and out of consciousness for a while to the sounds of Keith’s quiet and reassuring praise, only very distantly aware of the heat that comes and goes in his ass whenever Keith’s cock twitches to life yet again. He loses track of how many times it happens, or how long it takes, only knows that at some point he starts to moan at the feeling, properly enthused to being fucked so fat and full of cum that he can hardly stand to tense his abdomen without it leaking out of him, Keith’s cock stuffing him or not.</p><p> He also knows that he feels distinctly disappointed when it ends and Keith finally<em> pulls out </em>, followed by a frankly obscene amount of liquid gushing down the backs of Lance’s thighs, though he’s too tired to really be disgusted by it. And Keith is quick to bring a wet rag and clean him up, so at least there’s that. </p><p>As for the state of the nest, well, Lance will notice that when he wakes up tomorrow and finds cumstains on all his favorite shirts, probably.</p><p>--</p><p>It’s not necessarily a walk of shame, certainly not comparable to the one he’d had to do when they used to share a room next to Coran, but it certainly feels like one when Lance shows up for dinner the next night sporting a myriad of bruises and bitemarks all over his body. A part of him had been hoping they weren’t <em> actually </em> as noticeable as they seemed, that with a long-sleeved turtleneck sweater on the worst of it was covered. But after spending the better part of the entire day curled up in the nest with Keith, apparently that isn’t the case… especially not if the wide-eyed way his siblings stare at him as he walks into the room is anything to go by. </p><p>Or maybe his mother just spilled the beans for him, made a family announcement that he was banging his familiar long before he even showed up at the dinner table. Maybe she’d made them all swear to secrecy as well, which would explain the general quietness of the room as Lance settles into his usual chair. Aside from the children, everyone’s quiet, even the familiar table. And Lance can’t help but feel like it must be his fault somehow.</p><p>He ends up keeping his head low and focusing on his food, looking forward to the meal being over so he can go search out Keith. He’d left before Lance, off for a quick flight through the local forest, all too fond of exercising his wings now that he has them back. And Lance can hardly fault him for it, he just misses him while he’s gone. He hopes he’s back by the time dinner is finished.</p><p>Lance takes another bite and chews it, mostly zoning out to his own thoughts, when a familiar voice rings out in the room. Lance bolts upright, nearly choking on his mouthful of potatoes.</p><p>“Is it alright if I help myself to seconds?”</p><p>“Of course, Keith, we’re just happy to have you here.” Lance’s mother answers him kindly, her voice brimming with genuine warmth. Lance ever so slowly turns around, somehow still surprised to find Keith sitting smack dab in the middle of the familiar table, cleaning up the last bites from his plate like he’s been there for far longer than Lance and had plenty of time to finish his meal.</p><p>
  <em> That little shit…  </em>
</p><p>“I’m happy to be here.” Keith answers with a laugh, rising to his feet and making his way to the kitchen to refill his plate. He pauses though, tucking his head back around the corner. “Thanks for having me.”</p><p>And with that, he’s gone from sight. Lance lasts a grand total of five seconds before jumping up to follow him into the other room. He doesn’t care if he raises suspicions with his family, if he’s being entirely and damningly obvious, he just… wants to see Keith again. Wants to hear from him why he’s here.</p><p>He turns the corner to find Keith idly scooping another chicken leg onto his plate, making himself entirely at home, and it’s strangely satisfying to see Keith blending right in with his family and using the family kitchen like it’s nothing. He didn’t really think he’d ever get the opportunity to see Keith fitting in so seamlessly. And sure, <em> they’re </em> tense and quiet and awkward, but they’ll come around. He’s sure of it. </p><p>Lance walks up behind him and though Keith doesn’t react, he knows that he must hear him. It’s not until he wraps his arms around his waist from behind that Keith chuckles warmly, turning to look at him properly. From then on, his eyes dart back and forth between Lance’s eyes, and the colorful mess of bruises across his neck. Eventually, they end up kissing, Keith pressed up against the kitchen counter like it’s nothing. It feels distinctly like being a teenager again, especially when Rachel walks into the room and gives a scandalized gasp like they’ve stolen her innocence forever.</p><p>At that point, Lance is forced to admit that they’re being careless, and he pries himself off of Keith. He’s also forced to admit that one way or another, whether his mother has already told them or not, he’s going to need to tell his family about his relationship with Keith. As much as he’s dreading their initial reactions and the teasing, he really <em> wants </em> them to know.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Lance asks as they pull apart, taking special time to slide his fingers through Keith’s smooth downy feathers between his wings. He looks up at Keith, admiring the bright glowing shine to his wings and his eyes alike. Keith has never looked so proud, so happy.</p><p>“Figured I’d better start learning names, if I’m gonna be sticking around here for awhile.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for reading! I had a lot of fun messing around with a new creature I've never written about before, ngl. I hope you all liked the change of pace as much as me, but no worries, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled werewolf fuckathons very soon.</p><p>Any and all comments are appreciated!! And feel free to come hang out with me on twitter where I discuss some of these ideas before I go ahead and write 60k word stories about them hehe</p><p>social medias:<br/>@melancholymango is my main twitter/tumblr<br/>@redgaysonly is my fandom/nsfw twitter</p></blockquote></div></div>
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